a man with a gun in either hand

James Dewey

can't pick up a gallon of milk nor
can he make a decent omelet. he can't
scale a fish. he can't brush his teeth. he can't
change the channel. he can't sort mail or carry
library books to his car. he can’t give the tiny disco
ball dangling from his rearview mirror a spin. he can’t
win. he will never apply cherry chapstick. chopsticks are
out of the question. he will not remember the satisfying jar
of an aluminum bat connecting with a neon green softball on a
firefly evening. watch that ball bloom to the treeline. he can’t zip
on a zipline. he can't
pick up a can or a can
opener or cut open a
ripe cantaloupe. he
can’t pick chicken
off the bone. and
he won't pick up
won’t pick up
won’t pick up
the phone.