giddy up

when you were
a kid, with your toy
pearled pistols,
holstered in
your black
embroidered pants
you killed a lot
of bad guys,
some Indians too
along the trail.
in the darkened
room
you took your
white hat off
to wipe your brow
with a red
bandana, saying
giddy up to
your palomino
horse. you squinted
in the dust and sun,
licked your lips
in the dry wind.
you were almost always
in the middle
of something,
saving the girl,
catching
the hombres
when the knock
came on the door.
hey, what are you
doing in there?
what's all
that screaming.
dinner time, go wash
up.