Gunfire

Let your
lungs lift.
Like the
nice
lady said.

And, Christ,
unclench
your jaw.

She said that too.
My girl was
raised right.

On the couch,
because this
wrist thing
says my
heart-rate’s at
700.

But I’ve got it,
no calm like
tunnel vision
down the barrel.

When she went,
she let me keep it.

bliss twitched,

it's
empty.

Shit.

Used to keep
this thing

loaded.