Spacing Problem Blues

I am an equitorial cowboy

the one thought of at night

I turn tiny heat moaning

into circles of flight

I smoke three cigars in the morning

& then dress like a saint

I make the girls by the river

feel all wet and faint

I ramble out by the town line

but I can never go in

I am destined for fire

unlock the fish from its fin

I take pains to be noticed

by the wolves in their prime

Axe carrying weirdos

& the hall spit blind