jim thinks about his suburban childhood

back then, whenever i could
i’d run to the woods
and pretend i was homeless.
as long as i wasn’t within sight
of ranches, raised ranches, bungalows,
and cape cod cottages, i knew something
like calm.

it was like my guts were saying,
“gimme a .22 and a morning off of school.
i wanna kill pigeons, i wanna kill squirrels,
but most of all, i wanna kill these houses
as if they were wounded racehorses
that never got anywhere and spent their last moments
looking at the finish line from far far away.”

if i have learned anything from my childhood
it is to trust my guts and
keep a .22 handy. some day i may see
the perfect house for me and mine, something
with closet space and a clear message of what i’ve become,

and i’ll want to shoot something or someone, i’m sure.