Don’t Mess With Texas

the Texas militia
gathers on the border

Big John Whiteman
yells

I don’t care
if they’re mummies

or not
if they try

to cross the river
shoot ‘em

meanwhile mummies mingle
on the Rio Bravo’s

dirty cliffs
and when the moon

goes behind the clouds
they leap through the air

overwhelm
the Texicans

in the morning
Big John’s brain

lies half-eaten
on once sacred ground