A Dream Of South Dakota

I made my hands move the pages of the phonebook
And there I found you listed under “Plumbers”,
There was a full length picture of you
Standing next to your truck
Wearing a bishop’s mitre,
Holding thurible and crucifix,
You took off your vestments and got in my car,
We headed for the Black Hills,
The Cross before us,
Incense behind us,
“What about your plumbing business?” I asked,
You kissed me on the cheek,
“I want to see where Custer fought and died,”
“That’s over on the Montana side,”
“The dead need to be tended to,”
We stopped on the roadside to have a beer,
You stuck the crucifix in the ground
And pulled out your rosary,
“That’s a Buddhist ritual,” I told you
As we set out for The Little Bighorn.