JESSE JAMES AT
THE TUILERIES
Mastication and sublimation, both somehow together.
He twirled his gun like a magic stick, a drum majorette
in full bloom. How he ever got here I'll never know.
Now they read his letters aloud in an American
classsroom just to prove he couldn't 'write a dang.'
I love it when the French try to be 'les amercaines.'
Equal twisted justice under the law.
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The pounding of the Civil war goes on unabated - it's
still behind so many things. James Meredith and all those
guys - if they could still talk - they'd tell you : oh
Frenchies, this America ain't a thing.' Every outlaw
that brewed the wild West was a leftover killer from
the Civil War; either side, no matter. They still had
their battles to fight. Money, not slavery, became
the new subject at hand. Frontier justice was
a stallion running wild and hard.
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You can believe all the stories you want : hand-me-downs,
fresh lemons and juice, rotgut whiskey and the girls who
worked the saloon. The broken-down stage came in at noon;
the horses ran free, and everyone on it had been dead for hours.
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