i was shooting at birds

hunting pigeons with a handgun
though hunting is the wrong word
as i wasn't hungry but interested only
in blowing off some steam
though after six shots i managed only to ruffle a few feathers
and most of the birds returned directly under the presumption i was
willing to offer crumbs of bread
now that the brief bit of violence had come to a conclusion

i heard about it later
how one shot sailed up and away
then traveling by certain degrees and difficult angles
was caught by the high atmospheric winds that never cease to blow
and after a time the lead tired of entreating the entire mass of the earth to allow its few atoms a chance at overcoming vast distances
and questions lacking answers
and so turned its intentions back toward the surface of the earth
and though very unlikely and unfortunate
the plan b trajectory that the metal chose for its descent intersected
perfectly with a catalog model on her way to a photo shoot as she walked briskly
pleased at the way her breakfast had tasted

though no official word ever came to me
i read about what happened in the next day's paper
though i was not quite certain i was sure enough to feel terribly guilty
though slightly amused