The Last Manly Summer
We became a tight unit the summer
we found shotgun shells in a field.
Buzz pondered hard over what to do.
We harvested their sacred powder,
imagining ourselves to be
spiritual warriers.
We poured out silver piles in the sun.
I set them off with
Aunt Irma's reading glass.
Poof! Perfect blue smoke rings.
And hot enough to light our
HAV-A-TAMPA's.
I told Buzz, I bet we could piss a tree to death.
Every day the unit gathered around
a certain Box Elder sappling.
Right after school.
We discharged held-in payloads.
It took a month to bring it down.
Another job well done.
The next summer Buzz showed up
with a shaving rash.
And a girlfriend.
He made tiresome speeches
about what "real" men do.
It was hard on the entire unit.