poem of the day 03.14.14

gun #1

bobby craven was an idiot

he wasn’t the neighborhood idiot

…but he was close

craven liked to talk about guns

he said his old man had a whole basement full of guns

but none of us believed him

steven flushing called bobby an idiot

and then went back to killing his tadpoles with old nails

and building a fortress out of thorn bushes

while the rest of us kids stood there

with our thumbs up our asses

maybe we were all neighborhood idiots

but craven still rose closer to the top

he insisted his old man had semi-automatics and a colt .45

he had a classic springfield model from the civil war

you’re full of shit, craven. i told him

because i wanted to get steve flushing going again

something to take his mind off of killing amphibians

and making that thorn bush that he promised

to throw us all into when it was finished

i was new in the neighborhood

and i wanted to be more than just another fool

who stood around waiting on pain

i’ll show you, craven said

i’ll bring them all down here

my ass, steve said

and we all laughed

keeping one eye on that thorn bush

that was slowly taking shape

steve said, bobby the only thing your old man has

is a beer belly and his unemployment checks

when craven left nobody thought about it or him

we were glad that he was gone

we were glad that steve had stopped building

his thorn bush dungeon to go inside for dinner

the rest of us geniuses took our thumbs

out of our asses and went home too

i wasn’t home but ten minutes before someone

was outside calling my name

grochalski!

grochalski!

into the summer evening air

when i went to the door

sure as shit there was bobby craven

standing at the top of my driveway

tear streaked eyes and with a rifle in his hands

he looked like he was going hunting

so i ducked

grochalski!

grochalski!

i thought that i was going to piss myself

i felt so sick

a thorn bush dungeon seemed like a blessing

compared to that gun

i waited until the sound of my name faded away

when i rose craven was gone

he’d either stalked off to steve’s or went home

i couldn’t breath

so i went outside for air

and watched one bird

attack another bird for a morsel

a little something he could call his own.