Dressed in boots, leather skirt
Vest with fringe and cowgirl hat
My plaited hair heavy as two buffalo tails
I mount my two-wheeler, sans training wheels
Circle the crouched forms of brothers spread eagled
On the lawn, with their crew-cut friends shooting me a leaden glance
They play Combat, like the army men on black & white t.v.

They shout epithets as I increase my speed
Knobby knees pumped tight as B.B. guns
Hit the wide expanse of groomed green grass
Pop onto the seat with white majorette boot tassels flapping
Grip the handle bars tightly one last time
Then let go as I stand tall in the saddle

“Watch out for Annie Oakley!” I shout
They scatter fast as tadpoles at the creek
I Pull my cap pistols from faux leather holsters
Take aim at the myriad flock of crew cut heads
Crisp sharp crackle of caps popping
Odor of sulfur hangs like a cloud
Scattered battalion, a chain saw buzz

Rump hits the cold plastic seat
String tight around neck as hat flogs my back
Circle back toward almond orchard trail
Spokes a blur as Annie retreats to safety
Through two acres of stinging star thistle