My father used to make me play
“You are part of this family, Goddammit!”
He would grab me by my shoulder
Slam me into the chair
“Stop crying!”
Now we’re having fun

I had a Thompson sub-machine gun
Like the one Sarge had on “Combat!”
It was plastic, a toy
Therefore I didn’t point it at him,
Pull the trigger – “Rat-a-tat-tat!”
Blood everywhere

The name of the show had
An exclamation point in it.
There was a rifle shot when
The exclamation point showed up

Young men pointing towards a certain age
Are those most likely to shoot up a school
Commit gun violence, write manifestos
They will not play games with the family
There is no father to Goddammit over them

So they lay down and wait
In the amber waves of grain.