By: Cameron Crosby
He sits on the throne of his lawnmower
Like it’s a brand new Cadillac
Placing a cigarette between his lips
Turning it on, letting it roar
Smoke billows from his mouth
And the mower,
Barbed wire wraps around his big tanned arms
He cruises over to the side of his trailer
Turns the volume way-the-fuck-up
A cassette tape
‘Appettite for Destruction’
It’s been on repeat for years.
He returns to the lawn, cracks a beer
Trying to smooth out the jitters
From last nights shitty speed
He got from his daughter’s boyfriend.
Goose Hunting with Jesus
Standing on the shore
Fixated on open sky with lazy eyes
A dampness of salt water
And beef jerky…
An echo across the river
A goose falls from the sky
Hitting the ground with a soft thud
The goos flips and turns
Making snow angels in the sand
I pull my dad’s sleeve
Run to the goose
My old man YELLS, “Grab the neck!”
I twirl him around my wrist
I fling him about
Feeling every vertebrae crack
Around my wrist like a watch bracelet
The limp neck hanging in my hand
It’s glossy black eyes.
The truck rammed the fence
Splintering it into toothpicks
Carve through rows of corn.
Ran the scarecrow down.
Left it laying in the soft glow against a bruised moonlight
Its body stitched and stuffed
By a boy and his mother
The volume knob got yanked right
Drowning out the sound of crunching corn.
Dimebag Darrel crackling through speakers
Light guides the truck out of darkness
Back to the well-worn sidewalk
A dead-scarecrow silence
Fumes from the tailpipe
A sleeping town.