Ham and me: El Paso

   
   "Ham and me:  El Paso"
   
   The prime of angst-driven adolescence, rolling in a GLX 4.2 small block eight with a two-barrel, it shimmering electric-blue with white-letter tires and the curiosity of a single tail pipe for an 8; next, retreating from the City of Angels back to Hog Heaven, Border Patrol in El Paso having us pinned for no sublime reason; moreover, after our exodus, Ham looked at me and said:  "If it wasn't for that Texas Ranger, we'd be in jail."  God Bless the Rangers wearing white hats, six-guns loaded, not needing to spray prey with a high-capacity magazine, for my step-daddy says it only takes one, and he thinks he's a cowboy, and maybe he is--all for single-action mercury.  
   I don't even know about the Superbowl this year.  Yet I still see Staubach and an eyes-closed Hail Mary, throwing footballs in Vietnam, or so I've been told, and always wearing the electricity of a blue and white star, like it is with Spica in the Virgo Constellation.