Midwest Moderne


Overheard in a cowboy bar in Strong City, Kansas:
FIRST COWBOY: Hey, Dude!!! How’s it hangin’, huh?
SECOND COWBOY: Pretty shitty, man. Been feelin’
kinda blue. Like I had to fuckin jack off this morning
just to get my goddamn heart started….

Kansas be a piece of cake, honey—
most male butchy cowboys be EASY

I mean guyz who strut around in—
pointy-toed high-heeled cowboy boots?

What could be more nelly than that, girl—
and those size-queen Stetson sombreros?

Gimme a fuckin break, sweetheart—
Nelly Cowboy Couture be pretty kitschy

Those ever so tight & revealing bluejeans—
showing off such lovely bowlegged thighs?

Who dreamed up such an outré Style—
surely some Kansas Andy Warhol, honey?

Maybe Miss Grant Wood poor closet thing—
painting that tawdry “American Gothic” couple?

Edward Hopper with her fag noir “Nighthawks”—
gettin close to Hemingway's  “The Killers”?

That stark, lonely Greenwich Village diner—
in the middle of some vast dark predatory night

A scene right outta IN COLD BLOOD—
Miss Capote in a gay country cowboy bar

Gettin to know that grim gay Gothic reality—
known as the Red State Republithug façade

Play that lonely forlorn honky-tonk jukebox—
Hank Williams’ YOUR CHEATIN HEART, baby

Dance with those lonely cowboy rodeo stars—
your head on their nice big wide shoulders

Ending up in some ratty old NO TELL MOTEL—
drinkin whiskey and smokin Mexican dope

Cheap black velvet Elvis the Pelvis portraits—
hangin down from the cockroach walls

Wakin up bleary-eyed in an empty bed—
with a fuckin Killer Holcomb Hangover 

Nothin like maudlin Motel Moderné, baby—
gettin in the mood for MURDER IN COLD BLOOD

Especially if you’re a bored Big Apple writer—
pimping for the hoity-toity NEW YORKER

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