“Home of the Cowboys”

I tried a drink of whiskey long past
due, it was a dribbling reminder of how
bad my past was.

Who drinks this? Weird, a flammable
liquid, volatile and toxic ethyl alcohol
an early fuel for rockets, what were
we thinking?

The campaign is on, beer and bullshit
on one side, the path is wide there, many
toward pain and destruction, it is the truth.

Narrow the way to enlightenment, Powerless
all of us and capable in equal measure
of doing good and bad, having good and bad
visit—

We are windless mills in oceans still,
wondering at and wondering at God’s will.
Fear causes actions against the natural tide,
we run away and we hide. We try to find that
great job to set us up forever before we look
into our soul and ask of ourselves, “what do
you want to do?”

Decide on something, ask God that He or She
might bless the choice if it be pleasing.

The country is full of gold, white rocks and red
valleys, the rivers as highways transporting
blues music and Iowa corn. New England
autumn’s got me thinking of Chinese blossoms,
so many travelers on vacation here.

Then someone asks whether I might like to
have a beer?

When the pain was great, fear around and confusion
at its peak how great, a ticket, a way out, I can
fail and drink that, there’s my excuse I’ll take it.

Why have God if we can have wine, excess, parties
full of party dress, pomp and splendor celebrating
ourselves and our greatness?

Snow is falling on Interstate 80 right now, my
Volkswagen Jetta not used to it, I hope they
bring a plow, there’s gonna be hell to pay, if
I can’t make it through Nebraska today—

Wyoming, home of the Cowboys, shoot me with
love. Utah with your mountains and views, get
me through this trip so I can see you, my truth:

That I never needed more than faith and a hobby,
my career here impossible without sobriety.