Here lies the old Texan dust in his beard hell in his eyes “Fuck all yall,” he’d spit same way every sunrise same way every funeral Boots caked in red clay hands like twisted mesquite heart a dried-up arroyo He cursed the sky when it rained cursed the sun when it burned cursed the quiet when nothing answered back Never bent Never begged Never apologized once Now the wind carries his voice across the flat forever: >fuck all yall >fuck all yall >fuck all yall Rest loud, you mean son of a bitch The silence finally lost.