Framed in celluloid br for the crime too; br the offence br of selling an ideal, br maintaining the Dream. br Reeking of bullshit, br the myth and the man. br All eyes look West. br br Itinerant coarseness erased, br the horse he rides br is an East coast hobby. br Frontiersman, Indian-killer br or mountain trapper, br their positions usurped. br High in the saddle br he dons the white hat. br br Manifest Destiny drove him, br across the Plains to live free. br In Rousseau’s natural world, br House Full signs go up br the frontier is closed. br br Farmer, miner, cattleman; br all tasted the corporate truth. br Open range? br Staked claim? br Freedom? br We still need a hero br for the folks back East. br br The nation needs its Arthur br for chivalry and honour- br its campfire song of Roland. br A horse, but not of Homeric wood. br Our hero is the cowboy, br lifted from the earth. br br In times of plenty br he rides with silver spurs. br The Great Communicator br knew his role and mythical worth. br Bad times reveal the stubble, br coyote howl and rheumy stare. br br Do we still believe in cowboys? br A shadow with a gun. br The hat exchanged for black br a Lone Star pinned on.