At the FBI convention,
the placemat souvenirs
are milk chocolate guns.

One gun got through
Utah’s airport security
in my friend’s pocket.

Like an Easter bunny,
the gun has a sculpted, detailed side,
and one that is flat and blank.

Some put the barrel deep
into their mouths and bite.
Others nibble up the handle.

I’ll start with what breaks first:
the trigger. Once that is eaten,
the rest will be sweet.


first published in PANK