I found this little buckeroo stuck under my desk
He hasn’t had a bath yet
There are probably other things hiding there
Things we quit looking for as soon as they were lost

You think you will, but you don’t remember all the things
Like this unbathed cowboy
Mad letters written in ink on yellow paper
My handwriting was better then, poisonous

Long ago, a friend took her kids to find dinosaur bones
I have my own dig, my trowel and sifter in hand
Plastic gunslingers and faxed letters
There are trucks and ribbons buried here

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