Licensed to Kill

driving down dirt roads in a 40k SUV
with running boards and clearance
too low for jeep trails
we each scan our side of the road
for tracks in the snow
we're after elk

so far we've only seen one
strung up by the neck
from a tree by a rope
wrapped in cheese cloth

I'm the passenger, a rookie on the tour
know nothing of guns or hunting
still blood lust wells within me
after days of scanning snow covered
pines, brush, and aspen
for elusive elk

the old man is no stranger to hunting but
prior to this trip he'd tracked only smaller game
in the high sierras of California
black tail, mule deer and crosses
he could sling across his shoulder
after dressing them out

a trip with his brother
to Rocky Mountain National Park
where herds of elk grazed in meadows
like cattle on the range
sparked his urge to abandon
his 6 acres on Grizzly Flats
for greener hunting pastures

bought his tags for areas adjacent to the park
in hopes its abundance would overflow
into his sights

last year he'd been kept home by complications from
his vietnam war souvenir
hepatitis from vaccine air gun cross contamination
leading to liver cancer and transplant
Would his donor have balked, if she'd known
he liked to kill?

closest he came to cracking off a shot
was when I mistook a pair of does
across the road and down the hill
nestled on their knees between two pine tree trunks
for an elk or perhaps a moose

he retrieved the rifle from the back seat
loaded the chamber
peered through the scope
told me they were deer
yet high fived me for spotting them

it was enough of a rush
to stay longer on the last day of the season
shine on his 5 year old nephew's family only
birthday dinner so he could stalk on
seemed we'd spent weeks rather than days
wandering the woods 15 miles an hour
pausing on the road to chat with other hunters
in day-glo orange vests and hats
he'd tell 'em with a grin,
"Well, I can tell you where they're not."

on the last couple of days I urged him to let me
walk along the tree line
to flush our quarry out into the meadow
for a clear shot

crunching through twigs beneath powder
I'd pause to listen and look
nothing

twilight looms with our last chances fading
he speculates about being able to see anything
through thick scope glass
that's nothing more than a black circle
in low light

color drains from the air
leaving shadows from yellow headlights
he parks by the sign leading to town and our motel
unloads the 7mm mini magnum shells from the magazine
complains he can't buy them anywhere

driving back home over the pass
at newspaper delivery speeds
on icy roads with swirling snow
his thoughts turn from bagging a kill
to the wrong turns he's taken in his life
regrets he can't undo

a vietnam vet with tales of the war
spent stationed on a supply and repair base
in Okinawa, Japan

all of his battles were fought
along racial lines drawn
in black and white as
barracks and bars were carved into territories
guns were left at the door though
knives were just as deadly

from time to time he'd told me
to be sure his disabled vet plates
weren't covered with mud or snow
couldn't even tell me how many times
they'd saved him from a ticket

at last, domestic thoughts return
as we wind down into suburbia
he rambles on about
where he can find a car wash open
this late at night, with water jet strong enough
to clean the sludge from his undercarriage

later, in soft falsetto
imitates his wife chewing him out
for skipping his nephew's party


©polarpaul 2006

Cage Raised

I feel a new form of child rearing is in order.
the question
Which came first the chicken or the egg?
is not relevant when what you really need to know
is where and how they were reared
clustered in cages, stacked on top of each other
the primary criteria for design
collecting eggs, controlling disease

I say why not place our next generation
in such a cozy environment with
clothing, shelter, and food assured
we need no longer worry about saving for
a college education or fear fallout from
infant spills leading to visits from social workers
the ravages of elementary school bullies
the black angst of teen rebellion, drugs or sexuality

from day one their destiny will be secured
all activities will be oriented towards
reinforcing and expanding their pre-selected
career of our choice

what a wonderful way to insure the future
of our increasingly decrepit baby boomers
a generation in need of super-natural
geriatric support

it's clear our current crop of parents
have not been up to the task as their
game boy, me first
tantrum in store throwing
poor spelling hellspawn
illustrate, so well

in a world where we must keep pace
with the exponential growth of technology
and 3rd world insurrections
the luxury of allowing children to find their way
simply costs too much

islamic fundamentalists who see murder
of infidels as their ticket into heaven
willingly blow themselves up
brazenly covet dirty bombs
for the ultimate suitcase threat
are not content to let
jews, christians, communists, and capitalists
have all the fun

they've shown us, we need to raise the bar
in our game of world domination or watch
our standard of living crumble to dust
choking us in mediocrity and chaos
yes, leveling the playing field is the right thing to do
when everyone else is willing to do the same
sorry to offend all of you goody two shoes, but
any player with a true desire to win
will seek loopholes
take advantage of any lapses in enforcement of the rules

every minor leaguer wants to join the big leagues
our big leagues are not up to snuff
example
basketball bronze has tarnished our national character as
Spanish gold shines and defines our failures
marketing stars with flash, slashing dunks, and cash
at the expense of fundamentals
hasn't translated into global success
long range 3 point bombers drained us

wake up from your fairy tale fantasies and smell the coffee
the rest of the world is scrambling
to be where we are
take what we have
they don't mind sacrificing millions of their own people
if they can elbow their way up to the bar
while we bemoan the loss of thousands

So why have we refined commercial egg production
yet let down our guard
while incubating our own golden eggs, our kids?
allow them to fall victim to
TV cartoon vampires who suck their souls
advertisers who mold their desires
compel us to buy it for them
video games induce addiction, early arthritis, and obesity

I say we pass legislation to eliminate all child welfare
put the progeny of the poor into programs
children with speech have the taint of slum culture on them
draft them into the military so their violence and mindlessness
are redirected into positive channels
pure infants in cages immersed in their mission
give back to society through a laser focus cultivated in isolation

don't tell me about peace on earth, goodwill to men, or freedom
Where did any of that get the dali lama or his people?
a few best sellers in eternal exile while the Chinese took over
No, we need clear headed, cold blooded killers with the skills
to protect us
not habeas corpus or ACLU intellectuals who
want to give it all away

so bring on genetic and social engineering
plus the test tubes to do it in
I won't have a good night's sleep until we do.


©polarpaul 2006

Sensory Overload

when people lose loved ones
they're not really lost
most of the time they know
right where to find
what's left of them
in cemeteries, mausoleums, urns or
ashes spread to the wind

existing as memories in minds
inherited traits and dispositions in relatives
photos and films
property passed on to the next generation

what they can't recover are conversations
unless they believe in the hereafter
can communicate whenever they feel
the need
overtake them in daily pondering

as for me
I take a cold detached view of death
haven't heard cries from beyond
this mortal veil

I feel the death of friend or family
would not reduce me to a quivering mass
of inconsolable jelly
nor leave me lamenting why

a murder or negligence would disturb me
lead me to hold the perpetrator responsible
as life is short enough without letting
the lazy or callous dictate
when it should end

these are all theoretical constructs still
I've been fortunate to this point
all of my immediate family alive
no terminal illness hanging over them

as I grow older the awareness of death
grows stronger within me
grandparents, aunts, uncles, die off
each year I hear of more funerals

yesterday I visited my grandmother
she's 91 and just had her first cavity filled
I doubt she heard much of what I said
yet I still heard her questions
and we both nodded a lot

I don't fear my own death
no fan of pain either
when put under anesthesia
it felt as if I wouldn't regain consciousness

what I fear most is not living
plodding along from day to day
existing as a place marker
a walking grave stone where
my former exuberant self once existed

I see people plopped in front of the TV
flipping channels
needing a warm media companion to fill
the lonely void in their life

I hear tales of young women
who cut and purge themselves
in response to their sense of emptiness
pain and control let them know they're alive

I find it disgusting yet know
how easy it is to slip off the track
you've been so smoothly chugging along
gluing together the pieces of
fragile eggshell ego
is not always successful

how many of us
shrink from those
whose burdens threaten our own stability
we sense the black pull of death upon them
leave enough distance between us so
we're not drawn down into the black hole

I click and clack on the computer
perhaps hoping that each keystroke will
build upon each other to the point
where enough megabytes have clustered
to leave a legacy that won't easily be
erased

yet I know my words are lost
among the masses
everyone clamoring for attention
blinking flashing neon backgrounds
compete for our sensory overload

disasters from across town and throughout the world
bombard us daily
the basis of small talk
perhaps I've grown cold to death as I've been
saturated by it

if not up close and personal
death has weaved its way deep into my consciousness
what I wouldn't give for quiet dinner conversation
among friends and family
just not sure what
we'd have to talk about