Oh, and this:

Manifest Destiny

We stood at the end of the pavement
her in her wedding dress
me in her boxer shorts,
waiting for a bus that would never come.
An eagle cried out
A cock announced the morning at noon.
My wife, she whispered,
“Cream puff caper milk toast;
you take the trash to the coons,
I’ll clean the dishes with me teeth.”
I fetched the gun.
The neighbors, art students
killing livestock, cooking methamphetamines,
mocked the birds, laughed at my gun.
I waved it at them.
And, on that porch,
which, in retrospect, had nothing to do with a bus,
holding my wife and my gun,
I felt whole, for the first time
a real American.