Thursday, March 23, 2006

Gun Crazy (Casey Rose)

(This writer responded to Dorothy Allison's "Gun Crazy” (non-fiction) by Dorothy Allison by writing a poem with the same title.)

My uncle, Bo, was the shootin’ kind
He’d sit and clean his guns, with nothin’ else on his mind
“You gotta sit still, perfectly still,” he’d say of the great outdoors,
Still sittin’ cleanin’, tippin’ back a Coors

Come to find out, Bo ain’t never shot nothin’ in his whole life
We heard it all from Nessa, his dear wife
“Let me help you,” I begged Bo to help me help one night
He laughed in my face, and maybe he was right

I just wanted to learn to shoot a gun
I don’t know why, maybe just for fun
Maybe I should ask Uncle Jack, maybe he’ll teach me
Just you wait, Uncle Bo, just you wait and see

High school came along, Anne was my best friends
Best friends, I say, friends ‘till the end
One Sunday we were bored and she invited me to go plinking
“Plinking?” I said, what’s plinking, I was thinking

“You know, shootin’ bottles and cans,” Anne said
And over to the woods behind the mental hospital we went, Anne led
“You got a gun,” I asked Anne wonderin’ where she got a gun
“Mama got me a rifle for my birthday,” and then it was done

Anne’s mama was somethin’ special, I believe
A nurse with a dead husband, and when mentioned would leave
She’d drink cocktails everynight sittin’ in her Lazy-Boy
She was a lot of things, and one of them was certaintly not coy

So Anne shot at a couple bottles, and I watched her carefully
I was so envious, so excited, so simply filled with glee
I wanted to be taught, and Anne wanted to teach me
So I shot and shot again, “Goddamn!”, I shot a gun, ME!


LIT160 Introduction to Literature, Spring 2006
Posted with writer's permission

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