The first time
I fired a gun
I laughed uncontrollably.
The sensation was
the most fantastic
instance of nerve feedback
I experienced
to that date.
I remembered,
index finger tightening,
metal flinching in time
to my hard
dick
the sickening foreplay of
the enlistment process
that left me blue balled and
warming benches in the rank
and file.
Bjork told me once
there was more to life than this.
More to life than the grind.
I would like to believe
that taking lives
was a thing destined to be
my own
as the brass came
catta crak smak
against the gun range
plastic stall dividers.
Divide the population of the states,
granted, able bodied males
of appropriate age
into the task force required
to wipe the threat against
from the Earth's face
and loose them.
I was not born
ready,
but readiness
can be learned.
