Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Hurrying into the Horizon

"Cowboy driving cattle to grazing land, Dawson County, Nebraska, 1938"
(A John Vachon photo)
Library of Congress


Hurrying into the Horizon

The three-night party,
all those barefoot people,
some half dressed...
and we vibrated...
and the sun did not
come up for three days.

Roundup was through.
Who would eat so much
steroidal beef?
You said, Never mind, honey.
We went to a barn dance...
lame 80's music for Omaha friends.

We slipped away sweaty,
tucked in the kids,
sat on the front porch
with cool bottles of beer.
The moon had not
gone down in days.

We shucked our best jeans
and snap shirts, weighted themn
with boots on a mowed patch
of grass and weeds.
We stepped into our new
stock tank naked
and the moon went from orange
to the color of corral boards.



This poem first appeared in The Cape Rock (edited by Harvey E. Hecht).

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