Randall Horton

Kemosabe Blues

We were at that age
Where children live in cocoons
Dream about Western Flyers
Universal Skates across 
Sheets of concrete, or jerking
A Duncan yo-yo in the cradle.
We pulled stems from honeysuckle
Sucked it's syrupy nectar
Navigated wooded paths
Into hidden creeks, where
A bevy of crawfish hid in mud slits
Eyeing grey minnow.
Our fingers were one hand, fluid
Like a jump shot from half court
Youth was lodged in our skin
Like seeds of a pomegranate
We played cops and robbers
In sun rays that peeled potatoes
Dressed in cowboy outfits
With six shooter cap guns. We 
Stopped, when I couldn't be
The Lone Ranger.