Love the West
as it’s painted.
The wind off the prairie,
the wind off the face of Crazy Horse.
The long false memory of lone wolves
under quarter-sky moons.
Movie, movie, movie.
Pulp book footing at the ford of a shallow stream.
Dirt main streets and families
stoic as props.
Something to rely on
when the spirit’s down
and that howl is a wolf
at the door.
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Dark Matter 
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