drove down to the badlands, wound up back in time,
where confederate flags still hang from the ends of lines.
one pub in town; mother warns, “don’t go!”
cries, “down here’s where they hid ol’ jim crow!”

drove down to the badlands, escaping the city,
wound up someplace somewhere just as gritty.
where if you get close enough you can see in eyes
the longing for times prior 1865.