Machine gun train

 Hand wraps around the handle
Routine like family room behavior
finger wraps around trigger
And a dozen wait for the train to arrive

cut in half like fish upon a board
Inside the wagon no longer flapping
The eyes adjust to the scene of death
Family room like acceptance

The gun bumps and bursts
Toward the men in pursuit
A few of them inevitably
Catch a bullet

One into the shoulder
The other through a lung
grin bursts ring until the hot magazine is clean
The smoking chamber aching to light up

Run through the locomotive
as killing sprees become as conventional as transport
 Society couldn´t digest food without them