2011 Issue - Santa Fe Community College

Just then the third man’s right hand floats
across the five handguns on the counter
just grazing each one with tips of his fingers
like he’s psychic or something.
He picks up the 357 Magnum.
“Now, this is more my style.”
He’s big and it’s a big gun. Holding it
in his right hand he runs his left hand
over the extra long barrel
and on down to the cylinder
which he slowly spins with his left hand
looking into each cartridge chamber
as it comes around.
It’s a quiet moment for all of us
at the counter, when men find something
beautiful that doesn’t seem to confuse them.
I’ve been eyeing the 22 Ruger
on the bottom shelf to my left,
a replica of the 9 Millimeter German Lugar
my Uncle Benny brought back from the war.
Nobody looks at anybody else
except for the clerk
who picks up my interest.
But now I feel, what, satisfied
I’ll come back, I tell him
over the backs of the men.
“You betcha,” he says, “Any time,”
and points to the Ruger.
“It’ll be here.”
Santa Fe Literary Review 43