I talk to the trees

The thing about Clint Eastwood,
hidden tucked away,
behind the sneer
and the gruff remark,
is that he is
a nice guy,
impossibly,
who puts away his pistol
in private moments
and sang once
in love
when you were a child
watching Paint Your Wagon
on the big screen
at the movie theater
with your parents.
Dooming you
innocently
to be so
the rest of your life,
Dirty Harry
of the kind.