August 19, 2010


by Anthony Buccino

I was the fastest gun on the block and could out-draw all comers
from cowboys on the Motorola and cousin Tommy next door
to curly-haired Gary on the corner.

I had big guns, pistols, derringers and a cavalry style single shot rifle
and a backwards facing pistol holder.
I had cowboy boots, sans spurs, though, and a vest
with wriggling fringe all around

I fought off circling Indians from the berm
of my living room couch, and the Singer machine
I died a hundred falling deaths shot through and through
I killed a thousand foes in hundreds of battles too
I tramped over mountains of hassocks
and camped under indoor laundry line clouds.

I rode for hours on worn out armrests,
through walk-in closets, endless darkened woods
and dry, dusty desert trails.
I stomped through blinding blizzards
with my home made snow shoes.
I crossed amazing rivers atop my trusted horse.

I was never true from one day to the next
my tales and adventures never picked up the next day
where they left off and the very next day I might have been
a fighting GI in World War Two, like my old man,
or the ranch boss over my minions of little men

Those little men of mine, frozen forever in plastic poses
whooping it up or falling off a bucking bronco.
Oh I had my favorites and maybe could still find them
in the gazillion boxes stuffed in the deep, dark attic
but the little men knew not from one day to the next
what would be their name or their purpose
until the little boy looked into his dreams.

From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
Copyright © 2010-2017 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.

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