The drone swept silent
between the maple tree
and the shed

zapped my dog Shep
with an electric bolt
that vaporized him instantly

while Mr. Stone next door laughed
I told you, Hoffman
to shut that **** dog up

just as my drone
launched a fire grenade
up the exhaust pipe
of his new Lexus

yet somewhere
in the akashic record
of my sweet country
a muleteer helps
pull his neighbor’s wagon
out of the mud
that follows
a torrential rain