Pickup Poem Day 5

Western Kitsch Throw Pillows

The future is an old cowpoke
eating chili by the fire, forever:
same cooked food earned
with chores, no matter 
the chores, or day, or weather.
Scrape your spoon on tin
plate. Water the horses. Hum sunset
tune about home. Frontier is everywhere
the heroes haven’t been
yet. A tall white Stetson
breaches horizon, then
a tall white cowboy, his tall
white horse, and so
it goes. We remember
the rocks under thin
bedrolls, the rugged little houses--
sufferings that brought us
to central air and so many pillows
you could paint a room 
with them. Maybe a buffalo
motif for the winter condo.
Oh, give me a home
where the future is a ten
gallon hat, churning frontiers
into homes.