Elegy

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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