Ridden hard by cowboys and Indians
A few tin soldiers and one molded beige
My brother’s stable of plastic horses
Races ever forward,
Guided through swaths of rose flowered
They prance and they gallop, tails flying,
Riders thrust forward, holding guns and
I greatly admire two riderless blacks;
They rear up on two legs. Hooves fly!
O brave rebels who will not join the fight!
A gold palomino with four white stockings
Calls out to be stolen: Is heard.
Fingers sneak in a ride
While the god’s back is turned.
It’s totally worth the smack.
One all brown cowboy sends glares;
Hat pulled down over his face,
He sits it out on a nearby shelf.
Sometimes when I am lucky
My brother offers that plucky beige girl
And a horse he’s decided is lame.
I don’t care! We ride, scream wild
From the fabric of roses to a sunset of
FOR NICO WIND - FROM HER MOMMA
You are my side-kick,
my galloping girl,
a frolic on the plain
of our lives.
You’ve given me life,
a nicker a minute,
reasons to anticipate
the rest of our journey.