cap raze the only gun i ever owned didn't carry bullets in its berth. it fired sound and smoke from a body made of zinc. it was modelled after a colt 1885 single action army revolver. white grip and all. red plastic discs that housed gunpowder and metal made firecracker sounds and filled my nose with the smell of something burned beyond saving. i fed the ring of caps into the cylinder. oil the colour of seared meat kept the hammer loose. the people who paid for the gun only provided enough ammunition to fire at nothing for as long as it took me to understand i already had a cowboy's name. when all my invisible bullets were spent and my imagined enemies were dust, i stood in the shade of an old elm tree, cocking the hammer and pulling the trigger to hear the whisper click of a thing that had outlived its usefulness. an outlaw hemorrhaging happiness at a family reunion full of strange faces i didn't recognize and wouldn't see again. not even in a fever dream. 221015 what's it to you? who go blather from