Good Guy With a Gun

Cracking completely
succumbing to crazy rage
nothing, at times, makes more sense
the masses of accumulative complaints
compound the magnitude of every
perceived injustice
imagined or otherwise
there is no last straw
madness comes
when all the straws collected
explode in anarchy
up and out from desperately clutched fists
unable to have, to hold
to maintain order
the scattered remnants of life
like a shattered mirror
every shard reflects
the world’s smug disdain
for how badly your quests
for peace and success fail
and then in that instant
crystal clarity
knowledge that to regroup is folly
and the postage stamp increase
a child’s cries
the price at the pump
too hot black top
honking horn, thumping woofer
you see it like a vision
lead spraying out of you
at every and no target
you’ve always considered yourself a good guy
a responsible gun owner
and then suddenly there you are
family and neighbors dead
blood cooling on the tarmac
which now, in the aftermath
isn’t overly heated
horns are muted
bass a comfort
crying silenced
and all those costs of daily life
from postage to gasoline
what does it matter
all has gone so well serene
breath comes easy
and now that that’s all settled
and you’re a good guy again
the barrel turns inward
because, for a rough minute there,
you, you realize, were a bad guy
and the only thing, you’d been taught,
that can stop a bad guy with a gun
is a good guy with a gun
and now that you’re that once more
time to pull the cord (and the trigger)
and close the curtain on this
Jekyll & Hyde act
for good

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