Before the Hand of
Spilled beer and Jesus-platitudes,
road-twisted cheap-brass rodeo trophy buckle....
And the pickup rattles... fencing tools and crushed beer cans.
three roadside crosses in one downhill mile,
illegal burn barrel with a smokin' garden hose....
It's a drought-year nothin'.
Just sit sullen on a padded oak rockin' chair...
fire a nickel-plated seven-inch Colt revolver,
all the .45 rounds you can afford, into a neighbor's
center pivot section of gene-combo corn.