Going West
Once, a hundred cigarettes
glowed in just one cinema.
Arrows flew yet all were near misses,
random unaimed bullets easily knocked over
bunches of whooping Comanches.
Some horses were shot unseen off-screen.
In small Midwest towns fantasy roamed unchecked
nibbling at young hearts and brains.
Many adults pinned their hopes
on the aerodynamic tailfins of Chevy Stingrays
and more spaceship roundness in their homes.
Malls proliferated on the edge of cornfields
where prayers were answered on Sunday.
All this was normal, no one marked our
lack of awareness, we were painted innocent
by a world that had come to terms with
its time.
We knew much was wrong
some radicals fought for the oppressed.
Texas Rangers stood ready to lasso
hordes of cartoon villains.
A few federal agents imagined time travel.
The whole country was going somewhere
and working hard to ignore where we were,
as if in fact, we were all stuck in a movie
peering over the glow of a hundred cigarettes.
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