The Urban Cowboy

The Urban Cowboy,
thinks he is at the Rodeo.
In his white Tuxedo,
dancing as if he was
John Travolta.

The Urban Cowboy,
with his wide-brimmed Stetson,
a man with no name,
useless in the Cheers Bar,
never being served by Ted Danson.

The Urban Cowboy,
with his leather trousers,
the sheen and the crackle,
the static electricity,
is not who he says he is.
His Saturn Return turned to Jupiter,
his midlife crises a cliche
for a man born at the wrong time
in the wrong place,
to the wrong parents,
with the wrong face.

The Urban Cowboy,
rides the train, not horses,
his steed is late and expensive.
The Urban Cowboy could always
be anyone wishing they were someone else.

Ben Macnair is an award-winning poet and playwright from Staffordshire in the West Midlands. Follow him on Twitter @benmacnair