Author Information
NOT A GIRL THING.
Janice said
she wanted to show me
how well she skipped
with her new skip rope
I watched
as her small hands
held the wooden ends
and her arms
circled like windmills
and her feet
lifted from the ground
in an odd dance
the rope going over
and under
over and under
have a go
she said
no it's OK
I said
let me show you
how good I can draw
my new gun
from my holster
I said
tapping
the toy gun
at my side
a brown hat
(an uncle's trilby)
plonked
on my head
she watched me
her red beret
on her head
the lemon dress
I liked her in
the black plimsolls
touching toes
I took out the gun
and spun it
around my finger
like I’d seen
in the Jeff Chandler films
my old man
took me to see
my other hand
spaced at my side
I put the gun back
in the holster
and on the count of
1-2-3
I drew the gun
in the blink
of her lovely blue eyes
as 1-2-3
bad cowboys
(invisible to her)
fell and died
can I have a go?
she asked
sure you can
I said
so undid the belt
and holster and gun
and handed them
to her
to put on
which she did
in clumsy fashion
all fingers and thumbs
once she was ready
(at her own
female pace)
she said
count me in
so I said ok
and counted 1-2-3
and she went
for the gun
and sent it
spinning
through the air
catching sun light
on the silvery parts
as it fell
to the ground
with a clattering
spark flying
cap banging
sound.
