Once I had a ranch in Texas the land of the free,
executions and oil spivs.
One day as I was out riding inspecting my water wells and fences
it clouded over got very cold and large hailstones fell,
they were democratic in the sense
that they fell evenly on my horse and me,
which I had to shoot
because I had to split its stomach open to find shelter.
Resting my head on its large and still warm heart I fell asleep
and when I awoke the storm had passed.
Got up but didn’t see the horse
and trotted slowly back to the ranch
where the cowboys were milling about
saddling horses checking guns
ready to ride out try to find me
and perhaps a few terrorist rustlers.
Against my neighing protestations
they put me in the stable
gave me oats to eat
I knew then that my country had gone mad
it had lost the grip of reality
and was an a perpetual state of denial.