crabbing.

over dinner
she talks about the shooting range
and how she sometimes aims at
targets in the shape of humans.

her husband chimes in.
their joke about swinging targets of terrorists heads
does not make me laugh.
i want to ask her if she knows
what a terrorist is.
i want to ask her how it's any different
from the bombs we drop.
i want to say
listen lady
if you think that shooting at
figures unlike your own
makes you different from people practicing
on targets that look a lot like you
you're mistaken.

but then i remember how
an hour earlier
i pulled red rocks and dungees out of the
ocean in cages and
split their bodies on the
side of a white bucket and
power washed their insides on to the grass.

and i don't say a thing but
could you pass the crab?