in high school
my best friend’s dad, a cop
took us shooting one weekend
at a local range
i don’t remember where
there were a lot of rules about
when you could pick up the gun
when you could pop in the clip
where you could point it, loaded or not
and once i picked it up
before they gave the go ahead
and the man behind the bullet-proof glass
yelled at me
to lay the gun down
and every
single
eye
pinned
me
to
where
i
stood
they probably wondered if i
were insane or just stupid
but there was no doubt that i
was dangerous to a dugout full
of armed men
i put the gun down
his dad showed me how to shoot an automatic
but I wasn’t very good
even then my eyesight was bad
one time, the slide drew back
and sliced through the knuckle of my thumb
because I was holding it wrong
like a cop on tv
you never saw anyone’s knuckles
spurt blood on tv
my ears rang afterward
even with the headphones on
Words and Feathers 