Lone Wolf

[The Mind's Outlet]

“The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.”
– Sir P. G. Wodehouse

I.

Against the rise of the August 15 Louisville pre-dawn,
a boy makes music with his feet, each staggered pump
of his bike’s pedals bringing the clattering babble
of baseball card meeting spoke to the eclipsed houses
of his neighborhood. As he moves his legs numbly,

his stomach raises its early morning protest.
He tops a hill, the sun rushing to meet him,
bathing his face in rose gold. He slows,
sets the bike down on the sidewalk’s curb,
pulls a tangerine from the crumpled brown bag

his mother packed for him. He skins the orange globe
voraciously, letting its zesty pelt fall to the gutter
between his feet. He chews its juicy flesh silently,
listening to the hushed buzz of cars…

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