in the home depot
where all the real people go
by the bougainvilleas
and the catch-em-and-killyas
a boy and his dad
mad dad and boy sad
suffering sob
tear streaks rob
the boy of his words.
he tries to explain
what is basic and plain
the father sneers “sap!
where’d you hear that crap?
that’s just a bunch a shit
only women and faggots think it.
quit your fuckin’ cryin’.”
the boy is trying
but he knows the dad’s wrong.
i glance at the racks
the sledgehammer or pickaxe?
my hands reach to grip
this handle’s non-slip
one single good blow
in the garden depot
the boy would be free
but mine would lose me
to my single most powerful
reflex.