Steve Eng Poet Ballad

Rodeo Rainbow

His belt buckle’s holding his courage up,
It’s polished and engraved, like a golden cup,
It’s a bronze bucking bronco he wears with pride—
It’s a symbol of a man born to ride.

His horse trailer’s parked by that old truck stop.
A plate full of pancakes on the counter-top.
The waitress is serving him her breakfast grin—
His eyes are open ranges…and she rides right in.

And she sees Indian silver—she sees Oklahoma sun—
She sees Montana blue, and those prizes he’s won,
She sees blood on the horns of a devil steer,
The picture’s so clear,
It’s a rodeo rainbow,
It’s a rodeo rainbow.

The date on his buckle’s “1988”—
He tucks a dollar bill under his plate;
He says, “Honey, I’d like to take you dancing some time,
But I’m on that come-back ride, and it’s a climb.”

A highway patrolman drops by around nine,
He says, “Some motorist ‘been drinking…and he crossed the solid line—
Influential and he’s wealthy—and some cowboy’s dead…”
By that hot greasy griddle, she bows her head.

And she sees Indian silver—she sees Oklahoma sun—
She sees blood on the horns of a devil steer,
The picture’s so clear,
It’s a rode rainbow,
She sees  a rodeo rainbow…for a long, long time.

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