Ghosts filled the room where we sat drinking
our tequila and beer in dusty hidden darkness
while we talked of the hard suffering history of
Rocky Mountain mining towns who still
felt residual pain, sadness, and death.
where she chose to live her afterlife
in happier saloons with cowboy angels
who bought her drinks and her bed
when the moon and stars still shined bright.
of some mine’s continued orange pain
to music no one heard on that Sunday morning.