it's John Wayne's birthday
and I spent most of my evening
in a ballroom full of folks in western wear
prairie dresses and pressed plaid
while spending the whole time
thinking about how these girl
with their push-up bras and hiked-up hemlines
couldn't hold a candle
to a true woman of the west.
I heard about some people back home being mean to you tonight
and although they may not have meant it
it sorta got my dander up
and angried up the blood
like a good sarsaparilla.
maybe that's patriarchal or offensive or reductive or subjugational
or what have you
but I was raised in such a way
that shit like that don't fly
and I hate that either of us
have to live in a world in which
words like that are used toward you
and that I'm not close enough to reach out
with something like in that movie
where the guy backhands his friend to preserve what he thinks is his dignity
and the guy says to his friend
and the friend says
"Sorry don't get it done, Dude.
That's the second time you hit me.
Don't ever do it again."
something like that.