La Pistola / Bang-Bang
The men of my country carry pistols
into groceries — not because they’re afraid,
no, not from fear. Really, it’s not.
They like the weight of their weapons
pressed against their thighs, hard penile,
the erotica of making bad guys beg.
Just to be clear, it’s not from fear
someone might take something from them,
claim their precious Jeep or iPhone 10,
or that the world is beyond their control
it keeps spinning and will not stop,
dizzying change the only constant.
Why, they’d have to admit their God’s protection
is not sufficient, the piss-producing realization
nothing after death but the cold, cold coffin.
8 thoughts on "La Pistola / Bang-Bang"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Dude. The weightiness of this massive poem directs my attention to higher places, places seeking lint and leftover tan oil. Turgid coconuts are rendered malleable. Kid Rock is not the Rooster today. Thank you for elevating us in such a manly way dear Billy Boy.
Amen.
” The erotica of making bad guys beg.” Is my favorite line of the year so far.
Yes this is a thought producer
Solid and honest with that drop of humor you do so well.
I’m going to echo Coleman on the erotica line and also say this is one of your more interesting poems, buddy, probably because it’s such a departure for you — in theme, form (tight tercets), the use of Spanish in the title. One wonders if we’re listening in on a conversation you had with someone, perhaps on a trip. Really like this one.
Holy crap, Bill! This one’s a banger. I love the way you let your anger shine through without taking over.
Wow. From the start “of my country” to “the cold, cold coffin,”
you capture the reality of epidemic violence out of control so well. Then you tie it up with a glaring truth in that last stanza. Really, I could have just stopped at “wow.” Because. Wow.
This is clear-eyed and very perceptive
Good one saying things that need to be said/understood. I especially like the opening setting of the grocery store, not a supermarket or mall, just an everyday grocery store.
Spot on… And the punch at the end! what a great poem.