At twelve I had a crush on the Marlboro man–

rugged, self-reliant, riding in his dusty cloak,

lone hero of the American west,

protector of our freedom.

I thought I needed a cowboy to rescue me

from bad guys and Indians.

 

I should have let it go when he died of lung cancer,

but I didn’t look deep enough,

didn’t see beyond the billboard bullshit.

 

Years later, I drive with my family on WY 296, 

Chief Joseph Scenic Byway,

over Dead Indian Pass.

I feel sick,

And I don’t think it’s the winding road.

 

I’m done with macho white myths,

let the dust cloak my need for their protection.

I’m done with freedom’s gun-toting guardians,

let them rescue the 4th amendment instead.

I’m over cowboys,

let them ride into the sunset for good.

–Susie Rinehart 06/10/20

image: Reuters/Theatlantic.com