The Last Manly Summer

We became a tight unit the summer
we found shotgun shells in a field.
Buzz pondered hard over what to do.

We harvested their sacred powder,
imagining ourselves to be
spiritual warriers.

We poured out silver piles in the sun.
I set them off with
Aunt Irma's reading glass.

Poof! Perfect blue smoke rings.
And hot enough to light our
HAV-A-TAMPA's.

I told Buzz, I bet we could piss a tree to death.

Every day the unit gathered around
a certain Box Elder sappling.
Right after school.

We discharged held-in payloads.
It took a month to bring it down.
Another job well done.

The next summer Buzz showed up
with a shaving rash.
And a girlfriend.

He made tiresome speeches
about what "real" men do.
It was hard on the entire unit.