(on the occasion of another non-election night in the bluegrass)

kentucky still
practicing that
self-immolation
with a side of
grits
like a green tomato
slice
rolling in cornmeal
throwing itself
into a black
iron skillet
like falling off
a stolen tractor
during a hayride
driven by a
used car salesman

somebody
with a half-smoked
cig said it

good night and
good luck