It may be frightening to think
of a boy with rifle slung
from one arm, hitchhiking
with the other, or shotgun
laid across the handlebars
after school on country roads
to waterholes they knew
and had permission to hunt.
Farmers and ranchers were
in demand in those days,
sorted by disposition
outside the classroom—
we all knew who not to ask.
Small chores for only one
or two good boys was all
they took in exchange.
It was a simple time
despite the violence
of TV black and whites.
All our parents knew
of one another, weighed
rumor with responsibility—
and we kept them happy
just to have a place to hunt.
drycrikjournal 