The postcard rack wobbled
____________________on spindly legs,
perhaps one too many
____________________of home brews
the mortar & pestle and beakers
____________________in the shop’s rear
fermented on long weekends.
____________________But it wasn’t drunk,
only in desire of more cards
____________________or more to its liking—
not the capitol and state pen
____________________where all the crooks lived,
nor the smoothly pro photos
____________________of museums and civic gardens,
but twenty-foot Indians with arrows
____________________shot in their crotch,
flat-bed railcars with large logs
____________________stacked and chained,
families climbing over backs & tails
____________________of plaster dinosaurs,
cowboys doing cowboys things
____________________inside the letters of “TEXAS.”
Most it wanted giant jackalopes
____________________parked alongside
creekside taverns in the Rockies,
____________________timber trucks rattling
the walls making the jackalopes,
____________________even their sheep-chapped
cowboys, wobbly on their
____________________spindly legs.
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