We are kids and we want to stage a production

We uprooted our neighbor’s lawn to use as the backdrop for only one scene

Steal your father’s gun and your mother’s nightgown

Brush your blonde hair with pink fingernails to hold a clear sight on the sun

Smoke a cigarette through rouged lips to become familiar with wind speeds

Shoot to kill, but accuracy is not important because we’ll keep the victim off screen

Induce your body into spasms, to avoid the blame from settling on any single part

Listen as the rifle cracks and fades into the walk of a woman in high-heels

Though we cannot read nor write, we all must learn to improvise