Mostly he found it uncomfortable
to sit on a plank so long in the sun.

He’d expected bulls and broncos, not
schoolkids roping goats. Breathing in dung

and leather, he clapped when we clapped, game
for chaos to come so someone else

could tame it. Under a sky too blue
to look at, he watched a little one

eat from off the ground something he knew
should not be eaten. To us who stood

for flags, who removed our hats when told,
he said nothing. After we’d circled

our pickups and trailers toward home,
he waited till dark to taste the dust

of our going as it settled back
on the fairgrounds from the empty road.