to be ever allowed on a horse again?

truck, sure. four wheeler, i expected it. bicycle, i mean up here in the north who needs it?

but a horse i didn’t see comin

there’s two kinds of people in this family

            those that serve in the military

                        and those who wash out on a tide of booze

you’d be stunned what I can do with Budweiser

            don’t even need liquor, hardly.

hardly needed anything, told m’self.

            if i just didn’t need anything, just me and the slowly warming

sensation of this can, then i’d be good. because i was nothin and then easy.

            but when my ma finally got sick

                    after two bad husbands, and four sons who dropped everything handed to em

i started makin her eggs.

            i figured, cooked meth all them years, how hard could eggs be?

but we’re tender, us addicts. we know what care can look like, the click of a flame

            to a stove, a clang of a spoon, the clamour of cold people together over a common love and need

and my ma who been through hell and back

and then back to hell and maybe even back again

            when she says I’m becomin a real good cook

                        i’m proud. even if she’s just keeping me around because i know

how to swap out the oxygen tank. and even if i’m just sticking around

            because i can’t legally ride off on a horse,

                                    i’m glad we have each other.