He had pale green eyes and skin like
a lizard, cowboyed all his life except
when he wore a driller's hat, worked
for a wildcatter in Louisiana he said
Come a gusher he'd pay you big you
put some by for dry holes to come
as they did much more often than not
like life thataway, let that sink in and
save for dry holes truer than sin, we
brought in a gusher, biggest I seen
at Plaquemines Parish, producing
now, fifty years later, Hunt bought
us out, we ate steak for a year, got
tired of it, spent too much and the
dry holes come, and the money run
the other way, so I went west and
north ended up at the five-oh-one
that's a brand, and we run beef for
the war but we ate beans no meat
for us, so we'd lose one out on the
range, eat good for awhile but that
was the exception, like gushers you
know, sure missed the wildcatter
he used to say, it's a hard dollar
boys but a glorious one when the
earth rumbles and the gold comes
up, it's in my blood here to stay
nothing like it no other way to
get that feeling, the crude erupts
and covers the sky, you lick your
lips and taste payday, plug the
well, tell 'em all to go to hell it's
freedom and glory and Cadillacs
first class fare to Vegas and back.
Pale green eyes look far away
gone, cut a wide hog in the ass
them days, in crude we trust the
bankroll wore a hole in my jeans
had my face on magazines then
back to cowboyin,' eatin' beans.
Guinotte Wise lives on a farm in Resume Speed, Kansas. His short story collection (Night Train, Cold Beer) won publication by a university press and not much acclaim. Three more books since. His wife has an honest job in the city and drives 100 miles a day to keep it.