I Went into the Maverick Bar

I went into the Maverick Bar

In Farmington, New Mexico.

And drank double shots of bourbon

                         backed with beer.

My long hair was tucked up under a cap

I’d left the earring in the car.

Two cowboys did horseplay

                         by the pool tables,

A waitress asked us

                         where are you from?

a country-and-western band began to play

“We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskokie”

And with the next song,

                         a couple began to dance.

They held each other like in High School dances

                         in the fifties;

I recalled when I worked in the woods

                         and the bars of Madras, Oregon.

That short-haired joy and roughness—

                         America—your stupidity.

I could almost love you again.

We left—onto the freeway shoulders—

                         under the tough old stars—

In the shadow of bluffs

                         I came back to myself,

To the real work, to

                         “What is to be done.”