You've known the lay
Of California
From Baja,
To Mt. Preston in Del Norte.
To know about the Hot Springs
And your premeditated and ruthless
Feigned fight
Against the sweet
Selection of you,
And of his erectness.
The Ponderosas
Were as quiet
—in the dark—
As they ever are,
Playing on the wind.
And the Ponderosa after,
Where you maintained
For him, the merit
Of the hot-lamp Roast Beef,
To calm his still frayed nerves
For having taken you
To Ponderosa
In the first place.
But he was a Christian
And you, a virgin.
And the overwhelming steam
Blushing your faces
And looking up or down
And into each others'.
