The Smoking GunA Poem by Floundering AboutHave you ever fired a rifle? You can’t see the bolt fall back into place. It twists and slides somehow. An engineer could tell you what happens-- you just feel the jolt in your shoulder. You might see the casing eject. One day you look into the eyes fallen back into place: the jolt. You search for evidence: spent casings, powder stains, anything, but you can’t make a convincing case.
© 2010 Floundering About |
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1 Review Added on June 21, 2010 Last Updated on June 21, 2010 Author
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