It’s not completely abandoned. Even though the arched windows and doors of the church are covered with plywood, there’s a hand written cardboard sign nailed to the fence. “Please keep the cemetery neat. Garbage pickup is on [too blurry from water damage to read].”
The air is cold and the sky is blue. There wind is coming from everywhere and it carries a bite. I go back to the car to get my jacket. The gate is slapping against a post and creaking at the same time — I want to laugh because it all looks so much like a scene from a Sergio Leone spaghetti western, only it isn’t funny.… continued…
But it’s not like you have this opportunity every day.
Apologies in advance for mistakes, squeaky singing, and general lack of talent. It had to be done. The one and only take is below.
The gate clangs open and the steer springs out into the ring. He’s brown or black with white on his butt. The cowboys are right behind the steer, the rope slices through the air with a whoosh, the horses throw dust up in the ring. The steer races to the opposite side of the ring, but he’s too slow, the rope catches him around the horns or the neck and he starts to howl in frustration.… continued…
