I’m finding it harder and harder to laugh at the passing scene – fact is I’m as sad as a frog fell out of a bus on The Painted Desert. Where is my America? Used to hear the word deep and think deep in the heart of Texas. Now I think Deep Six...or Deep State. There are days, I think it all went down hill since Columbus… or maybe it just all went down hill since Dallas
Elbows on the top rail,
Boot toe on the last,
Here inside the corral
looking out at land so vast.

Four times since I been here
some mustangs swooped right by;
but they never came too near
cause, by nature, they’re real shy.

Day was so fine I stayed on late –
that’s when I saw the heavy roan:
Something funny in her gait
And what’s more, she was alone.

I didn’t see the gear at first:
Couldn’t see her back.
She come straight at me – like a burst –
like some racer round a track

Then came up short, she did,
And kinda begged me with her eyes.
I was dumbstruck as a kid.
Couldn’t handle the surprise.

No words big enough inside
to match what then came over me.
A saddled horse that none could ride?
To my mind that spells tragedy.



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