Union Busting Bronco

It’s on these soggy Kentucky mid afternoons

when smog and clog of the city

race in rose-gold Rolls-Royces

driven by Brooks Brothers Bookies

away from the “yes bosses”

and into the “yes ma’am” and “yes sirs”

when worn white collars swap for

less worn white collars

Where decades prior debuted debutantes stare suspiciously

over their tiger lily and tigerlily specked hand fan

at the straight-backed slicked-back stand-back yes-ma’am valet

the valet with a ballet pirouette who dips his head and

raises his eyes and grins at his velvet red vest compatriot

And by now the doyenne debutant has already forgotten the valet

and the valet will not forget the debutante

and I’d like to shout the injustice

but she’s forgotten and he’s forgiven

and nobody listens to a horse anyway

If it were up to me things would be different

bales of hay would stretch high

miles high

and apples would fall from orchards

in vertical rows growing sideways

from patches of tall grass grown intermittently between

the great hay bale high-rises

and horses would ride jockeys

and human foals would work long factory hours producing sugar cubes the size of stables

and for that the 8 hour work day must be abolished

and child labor laws curbed

and unions would be banned without trial