the William Tell Act

i balance an apple on my head 
& say shoot
not to anyone in particular 
maybe just to god as he walks
in his steel toe boots 
upstairs in the apartment above us.
it's a party trick 
the William Tell Act
tell a loved one to shoot a fruit off your head.
i'm standing in the kitchen
waiting for my dad to come home
from work
the trick is best played out
between father & son
dad comes home but he's just
a silver can of diet coke
rolling in on the ground.
i crack him open.
he was all shaken up.
fizz flirting with the floor
& i place a melon on my head
something harder to miss.
i sit on a bench in the bus station
& offer my head to passers by.
i gesture
making a finger gun 
to demonstrate how i would like 
to have the fruit knocked off.
people are too busy 
need to come & go come & go.
the doors of the train slide open 
& close a few times as if the metal creature
is chewing.
i get on the train & try smaller fruits 
like clementines & raspberries 
a real challenge for whoever decides 
to play. what is a game
without sugar & danger? 
i ask more strangers. i tell them about 
the trick-- how you have to 
knock the fruit off
how this is best performed 
with other people watching.
how if i die i will have died 
performing a trick & 
that sounds better than natural causes.
this is natural i guess. it involves fruit.
a stranger agrees finally
but only because he hates blueberries.
one small ripe berry almost buried in my hair.
i flinch at loud noises. i lock
to door to my bedroom when i sleep.
adrenaline coming out as lightning.
why do we insist on 
knitting traps for ourselves
to climb into?
sometimes i tell god that 
if he's real he needs to come down
& save me. click of the gun
as he loads it. the stranger 
has bone white fingers & teeth 
made of aluminum foil. the stranger
closes his eyes to take the shot.
aim. gun fires. blue berry smolders 
on the floor. 
rush of disappointment.
did i want him to hit me?
maybe just scrape the corner 
of my face. 
the train pulls into the station. 
i hear it again
god walking in his steel toe boots. 
dad clattering in his can.
i make a note that i shouldn't
shoot cans off the fence
if i ever have a gun.
i eat the rest of the blueberries
& thank the man for shooting.
he asks if i want to
do this again.