An Old Non-Rhymer

My dad saved this, and he asked me if I could post in online. I wrote it 25 years ago, immediately after the experience described within it. All quotes and descriptions were exact. (This will not take the place of a new rhyming poem today--will write one later.)

Reflections of a Liberal, Vegetarian, Pacifist on a Visit to "The Big Gun and Knife Show"
By Batsheva (Date approximately 1985, give or take a year or two)

The three-dollar admission
Seems a fair price for such a glimpse
Into the other side

At the door I am asked
If I am carrying any guns
Saying no, the word gun is stamped
On the back of my hand
In red
What would they have done if I had
Said yes?
Perhaps a different color stamp
Turning my hand
The word says, "nug"
I feel better.

Why do so many of these people
Look like they belong on post office walls?

What is anyone going to do
With a three-foot butterfly knife?

How can guns be made so small?
A person could be carrying one
And you would never know
Am assured they still can kill
"Well, that's good," I say.

Rifles
Heads of bears
Skins of deer
Some still wearing whatever expressions
Were on their unsuspecting faces
At the very instant
Bullets ripped apart their flesh
"Yep, pretty proud of that one, bagged him myself."

Machine guns
Grenade launchers
Any psychopath fresh out of the hospital
Has the inalienable right
To walk in here and purchase an Uzi

Asked to sign an NRA petition
I politely decline
Being careful to remember
To smile.