Dusty, pale rider

On a muddy Haiku road.

Well-worn hat,

Sun-bleached skin,

Wrinkled, calloused hands–

It’s amazing they’re able

To still hold the reins.

 

I always wonder:

Does anyone else see you

Opening the county’s stand pipes

To give your horse a drink?

Or at the beach park?

Talking story,

Emptying can after can

Of domestic beer.

The empty cans form a pyramid

Like in ancient Egypt,

This marvel built

By redneck architects.

 

You always offer an easy smile

Minus a few teeth.

Ok, most of your teeth.

We all know you’re a touch wild–

An old Hawaiian stallion

That will never be broke or saddled.

But we also know that you’re good people,

So we all root for you

To ride on forever.