At the American Legion there's
a WWII field artillery piece, its
tripod sprawled on white gravel
like a Grandaddy Long Legs.
When I was a kid, we held dances
there and I was in love with Mary
Alice Paxton, but when I asked her
to dance, she smiled and walked off.
They keep it greased and calibrated.
All the wheels and levers work, but
the breech and is welded shut. With
windage and elevation, the range
is three to five miles, enough to
drop a shell on Wal Mart, the roof
of the County Jail, or the all-night
Quick Mart on the truck route.
Some times late at night, I take
what's left of a bottle of Dewar's,
ease into the operator's seat, work
all the dials, rain Hell down all over,
making bomb noises with my mouth
crying a little and muttering beneath
my whiskey-breath, " Damn you
Mary Alice." They ain't caught me yet.
The Cannoneer
-
- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: The Cannoneer
It’s amazing how much rejection clings to us throughout our lives. Excellent job. The strong imagery, but also the humor…
the range
is three to five miles, enough to
drop a shell on Wal Mart, the roof
of the County Jail, or the all-night
the range
is three to five miles, enough to
drop a shell on Wal Mart, the roof
of the County Jail, or the all-night
Re: The Cannoneer
I agree with Bob, rejection clings, affecting us for ever.
Love the last stanza
Love the last stanza