Dear Glenn Ford

Dear Glenn Ford,

In the days when you and William Holden
made romantic Westerns in the West
my friend, Joyce, and I could not decide
which of you we loved the very best.
Walking home from school, we’d rerun
every scene of every movie;
every gesture, every word.

We’d act them out and practice.
At drawing of a six-gun I was really fast.
At dying, she was by far the best:
with painful grimace on her face she’d stagger,
then fall upon the ground and clutch her chest.
We didn’t care that passersby thought us weird.
Our mothers couldn’t wait for this phase to pass.

William Holden eventually became Joyce’s choice.
My heart was captured by your crooked smile,
your shy good looks and husky voice.
O Glenn, I truly miss you!

Barbara Larsen