Foolish

 

I watched my son and his friend

play Western Settler and Native American

from room to room,

behind the backs of chairs,

in and out of forts

constructed of pillows

and seat cushions.

 

I laughed in a parental grin

at their creative crayon war paint,

but felt nauseous realizing

their guns, though sticks,

found each other’s faces as targets,

regardless of their empty barrels.

 

I suggested they play Sacagawea and Clark,

and, much like children without history,

their expedition lead to hide-and-go-seek,

during which, Sacagawea was made to hide

while Clark constructed Lego log cabins

that sprawled across the living room floor

with clear-cut carpet grass

where once dust bunnies roamed free,

hunted only by natural selection,

the vacuum cleaner, and my Saturday chores.