Six guns.

It used to be a better party town,
three churches, fifteen bars
odds against salvation
or so they say.
Outside the longbranch there’d
be fights nightly, the cowboys
against the railroaders
and the hollywood people
against themselves and everyone else,
but it got confused because
eventually there were hollywood cowboys
and even hollywood railroaders
and this was before the writers showed up.
Back in those days
horses were ridden inside hotels,
guns were brandished,
movies were made.
and the parties, sweet jesus the parties,
one night the hollywood people
commissioned a real indian monk
to create a mandala with cocaine
dyed the colors of the rainbow,
it covered the top of a full sized brunswick pool table.
Putting a mandala up ones nose
is just about the pinnacle of party buddhism
and around this time the writers started to show up.
none of them fought
And they didn’t like cocaine
But they liked the smell.
they came for the views,
they raised horses and imported parmesan cheese
and wrote and they watched
until the cowboys and the railroaders
broke under the scrutiny and left
and that’s when the whole fucking place collapsed.