Guns we won’t control

I fell asleep
to the crack of gunshots
each night in San Diego.

Ray Lang took a shotgun blast
from a neighbor who was pissed
Ray skateboarded in front of the house.
He was seventeen. I still remember his laugh.

In college, a buddy took me to the range.
I hit my mark just fine,
the pistol slimy in my hands.

Yesterday, an op-ed said peaceful liberals
should arm up.
Gun lovers threaten to kill us.

Listen, a gun isn’t protection
or a fun time.
It’s a target on me and those I love.

Columbine, Granite Hills, Uvalde.
My son passes through the school gate every morning,
and I’m fortunate he comes back out.