Wind your fingers with athletic tape
Put on an ancient blue sweatshirt
and head out to the shooting range.

This early,
no one shoots,
so you’ll have the place to yourself
to draw and aim,
release the string,
adjust and adjust and adjust.

Pour your head into your body
and your body into your arrow
and your arrow into the hole
at the end of the range.

It’s not rocket science.
It’s not any sort of science.

It’s pouring piss from a boot, kid,
and the target’s not a target but a drain:

Empty out.


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