Dedicated to Devin:
Saddled Muse,
these things I do, they are
an acceleration towards a stale
green light. all my friends,
they’re horses.
all my enemies,
cowboys, with double barreled shotguns
for tongues, who spit rock salt
at tender things like soulmates and
human hearts. every flirtation is a dosado,
every party, a rodeo,
and this valley and this ranch shine
with heartbreak. these dirt roads
tremble with earthquakes.
my hat hangs on every word, so it looks
like I’ve found my way home.
with spur scars on my sides,
in hesitation of blinders,
weatherfield
