On The Reservation

and the night goes, crack
johnny reb eating black jack
lacquered tables for
breakfast,
liquor poured
down throats, sparks
lit around bent words
with no hope
of straightening
there isn’t
any slowing
this train,
but it does
catch a breeze from a
hurricane out east
that blew itself out
over palm trees
and local women
and remember
the story your father
told about jousting
wind mills,
crack
the night goes black
it’s beautiful to see
but you can’t