dragged down

Tonight I sing of right and wrong
of gold and cougar lashes
of hares pulled from hats
and such endless skies as
the sun might paint over Montana

Today, when I la la'd my love
for you and poetry, you said
that everything is relative

Tonight I sing of black and white
of justice, and cow dung
of fields in Indiana where
the moon hangs down so low
the scarecrows have to duck

Today, when I traipsed by
in tall boots and elegant slacks
you smiled and laughed

Tonight I sing of life and death
of air and mirrored sun-glasses
of black corvettes revving engine
along a strip at midnight
right before the red kerchief falls