We all keep-like Harmonica-
a secret as it were gold
nuggets in the pouch.
We all know somehow to play
a wondrous melody in a whisper
to the loved one or a sick cat.
We all know how to fire
-trigger happy- against the same ones
we love.
We all have in a way like Harmonica
got through deserts on horseback
chasing trains dust clouds and mirages
running after despots and wild demons.
We all keep concealed
some mysterious past
we all have had a brigand
as sidekick a merciless millionaire
as the last target last coup de grace
in dreams.
We all dream to quench the thirst
in a well with fresh and clean water.
We all once upon a time have fancied
on rescuing some prostitute from some brothel
in New Orleans Paris or New York.
We all have wanted to save a destitute widow
from the banker who intend to evict her.
We all know somehow like Harmonica
to play the music of the spheres the pristine
music of God in the desert.
We've all by some means escaped
unharmed from the desert
shooting wildly with the eyes closed.
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