Termites infest my ever burning legs.
Ground pounds feet like sledge hammers to walls.
Trek down desert streets; Crumbling floors
piled like junked cars, sandy and undermined.
Walls speckled with dents, their reminder
Of our gracious meat hammer of love
Vest tears down between the shoulders.
A shrug to reposition the physical burden.
Only youthful aggression drives me onward
no longer playing Cowboys and Indians.
Pop pop pop.
Reflexively drop.
Rock pebbles
stab elbows.
Focus on the prey
Heart racing
Birds fleeing
Yelling in the distance
A wall splinters just a tree
under a woodpecker's assault.
A child's insistent pestering
to say “hello” and run.
Pull an explosive
Tube from it’s case
load the cartridge
Aim to perfection
The weight of prior engagements
Lowers the barrel considerably
Finger hesitates
For just a second
pull the metal blade
With a click, it’s done.
Keep both eyes open -
Fight the subconscious attempt
to disconnect the effect and cause.
Where is it?
The flying golden grenade
Hidden with the bright sun.
Pulse throbs against my neck guard
With vision closing in perfect sync.
Panic set in.
Where the fuck is it?!
There it is.
Too shallow,
thank god.
Aggressively shout,
“Get some!”
Friends cheer.
Reload.
