Missed Connection, Old West

running with my sack for the last coach
I accept a firm hand up and hop on board
she hugs me safe you made it
we swap names for what it's worth and
Vanessa Woodward
points me towards the seating slash hanging system

12 net hammocks evenly spaced, I take no.6
underneath someone I realise I know very well
Catrin Armstrong
we swap notes about Uruguay
it's been 25 years but the
distance passes like wind like water
in the way of old friends

some of other occupants begin to mumble
Vanessa Woodward
looks daggers, we'd barely exchanged ten words
I whisper we had a thing and jerk my head towards
Catrin Armstrong abunk of me
'oh a thing, was it the greatest thing?'

I think long and hard for a full half second
'yes it really was the greatest thing'
Catrin Armstrong adds 'top ten for me'
someone wolf whistles, charmlessly
another woop woops, sarcastically
this is not a private space

'well if I had a lettuce' exclaims a tattooed oilman
and they all join in
'yeah if I had a lettuce' but I don't know that song
this continues for several verses until bless her
Vanessa Woodward
yells 'silence!' and she is obeyed

she holds some sway and
I like her sway but the gravitational pull of
Catrin Armstrong
slams me back to the time
we were too luscious to be true and
sadly, a revolting display ensues

the passing of the years has not been
kind to either of us
Catrin Armstrong
proves to be hard of sight and short of hearing
and me to give me his full name

Lee Holloway Towers (1859-1941)
with turkeyneck and bulbous nose
'oh my Catrin Armstrong we're not so luscious now'
I whisper fwiw which means I wish
we were back in La Pulperia when
youth and hope were on our side not here
wilting on the hammock express