Lone Ranger with cap gun (in our backyard).

Holster way too big.
But no matter. He was the Lone Ranger.
Shiny pistol
With roll through caps, bright red.
To explode, maybe take out
An eye.
But this was 1961.
Health and Safety only
Vaguely considered by hospitals.
By Grandmothers.
And what about Lawn Darts?
Neighbourhood Dads never worried.
Moms hid in the Kitchen, baking
With crossed fingers.
Avoiding the back window
And the Lone Ranger antics.
Dads writing the screenplay
Shouting it out.
And Tonto? Keemosabe.
He was played by the
Little Jewish kid up the street.
David Wilensky.
With his tendency for
Bleeding noses.
He could die like the baddest
Thespian at Stratford.
Alas, poor yon Tonto.
His Dad. A fine divorce lawyer.
And mortgages arranged.
Bought a swimming pool
Eighteen months later.
Then Dave could do
The dying Indian, clutching the breast.
Falling off the cliff.
Into some New Mexico river.
Kersploosh.
Nice Remington rifle ruined.
By the wet.

Hiyo, Silver…away.
White horse obliges.
Tell me who was that masked man?
Would have thanked him.
Profusely.
And why the feed through red caps?