Country Star

By Wesley Houp

The world is upside down,
giant mooncalf,
no longer serving reason,
says tiny green grasshopper
that’s biting my shin.

I’ve never known
grasshoppers to bite,
I reply,
and besides,
Margo Price just told NPR
that all things happen
for a reason.

Horseshit!
Who you gonna trust?
A hipster chick
who’s colonized country music
for iTunes,
or the actual king
of country,
the bottle-eyed voyeur,
the long-legged prince
of fiddling away daylight
who lives in the broom sedge
and comes out
in the upside motherfucking
down heat of July
to bite your stupid fucking shin
just above the sock?
Just name me another
country star so
dedicated to misery
and risk,
the mouthful of uncle,
to tell you enough
poor boy
holy shit enough.
Not a Margo this side
of Pluto lays that shit
straight, so
you know where
to stick reason.

Yes indeed,
right up my hopper hole.