Each August I'd go to the county fair,
First with my family, then with my friends,
To see all the wonders on display there,
Rides and blue ribbons are how summer ends.
When I was fourteen, I went to the fair,
With indigenous people and others,
Gathering Flowers brought boys with long hair,
Older they were, it worried our mothers.
Carlton was handsome and warrior tall,
Muzzy was fuzzy and round as a drum,
Debbie and Becky and I were in thrall,
We passed ‘round the pipe until we were numb.
Gymkhana was funny, joking aside,
Real Indians watching fake cowboys ride.
About the Creator
Denise Shelton writes on a variety of topics and in several different genres. Frequent subjects include history, politics, and opinion. She gleefully writes poetry The New Yorker wouldn't dare publish.