SNAKE-OIL MAN

Why was I picked for this war after fighting many other battles and now my own? I want the gods and the heavens to call me back home with the answers that only the sky dancers hold. What is this story of mine waiting to be told? What are my shades of green on the other side of the sunset and the sunrise? I hear the other warriors' voices, see the white of their eyes, and ask myself what made me survive.

There are butterflies in my stomach and a fire in my eyes, lighting my way night and day. The heart of a lion lies deep inside me because I am one of them, and I keep hearing that I am one of them and have a job to get done. Thank gravity for keeping me on the ground

The smoke is getting thick, and the snake-oil man says there is nothing we can do for you, so put down your pen, pick your single bullet and gun. You got yourself a gunfight needing to be won. Praise yourself, for they are the rich and no lord. People like you are allowing us to sell that snake oil, and they know it.

We are the mighty gods. We praise our religion every day, but Sunday is our off day. You are unlike us; you are like the angels who hear us and refuse to hear us sing our songs about our power. You are all damn heathens if you are against us, and you will feel our wrath.

People like you who have had enough realize you are calling our bluff and getting off the carnival ride, so they run and hide without remorse or goodbye. I won the fight with one shot. The townspeople stand with their hungry mouths open in amazement, not making a single sound. The snake oil man can is on the ground and nowhere to be found.