Accuracy

there is a feeling about good accuracy when you’re throwing deck chairs into the road, into the cheeks of trees, and it makes you really smile, like the time you curved into the discus thrower, and nailed your backyard pine lodging your mother’s patio side table in the firmamental reach of the branches.

it’s the knowledge that the laws of physics can’t touch you, it’s the wisdom that you finally know the exact location of every item in the supermarket, that the robbing of a bakery you negotiated, the one with crumbly gun holsters and aging rye hands of the baker only left the blood-dough of one loaf on your hands, and you can live with that, because you know where it is, glopping in the webbing of your fingers.

normally you worry why you think about what the size of your clipboard says about you, but after you put stickers on it, make it yours, you don’t ask that anymore, you’re almost totally Pentecostal about it in theory, but not about big stuff, it always moves tho like a toddler leaf, slowing but sidetracked by shifts

you remember when you were eight there was too much bug spray on the outside of the stained glass and jesus looked

by ethan risinger

really good for the first time, like a good worker skin still afraid of the sun and you gave yourself nicknames like filet, breast, spit, half, drippy noggin, nasty bito nugget, to fit in because the other one didn’t fit right and now you feel the accuracy.

you saw a child make two Power Rangers fight Hell-In-A-Cell style inside the cab of a pickup and that really got to you didn’t it?

and you, tho fertile, probed yourself inside the celibate bed of the Dodge Ram 500 in the parking lot without anyone noticing, felt the bed, smelled the metal seats, putting your nominate in between the outdoors and the back window to could look at the kids without really doing anything but looking.

when you’re home later, falling back on the patio furniture in the trees, the chagrin of your mother when she tells you the eyes aren’t much, but it still looks good, and that knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad, and that accuracy is in between the throwing and the falling.