Rednecks at the Shooting Range
Free Verse
Published in
2 min readApr 12, 2024
On my screened-in porch, I stare
at the bug zapper in full noon glare
on this fair day, we drink iced tea
and marvel as the moon ascends
to hush the sun and call strange shadows in —
and with a bang, the magic ends.
It’s those rednecks
at the shooting range
again.
They blend in perfect harmony
with the schreech of Jesus-rock
from the megachurch
six fields down
in the silences between staccato shots.
Jesus might be down there with his pistol
loading hollow points as our eclipse
paints the sky, since that’s what they
do for fun down here.
Three miles hence (as the crows flew once)
cousins swap semi-automatics,
grab brews from duct-taped seats
in pickup trucks, and visit
cuz awesome is just a cheap piece of slang
and nothing wins like violence.
