(for Mark Brumley)
Shallower judges tend to look askance
at black hats like the one you choose to wear.
They hate to see obscurity advance.
For emblematic darkness they don’t care.
Their judgment in this context they don’t spare.
If they don’t preach, you see it in their eyes–
and feel it in their irritated air:
their disapproval of black-hatted guys.
But you ride on, ungoverned by the lies
of color-coded, mindless Pharisees.
Injun observers note that you are wise–
and, overhead, the Thunderbird agrees.
Coming from Faith, you reach the Town of Doubt–
and with the smiling Devil shoot it out.
Happy Birthday, 2015!