Waiting to Pounce

The hunter crouches beside a desolate road
Watching as the entourage drives by.
He fixates on one vehicle in particular,
A pair of diplomat flags demand his attention.
The beast’s flat olive armor reflects
Nothing, as though the light is being sucked back in.
A true social evil rides comfortably inside,
Rings inside rings form in the hunter’s mind
As his victim, ignorant of the lurking horror,
Scans the horizon through his window.
Sand, purified and refined,
Separates hunter and hunted.
For a moment, the hunter suddenly worries
That he may have been misled,
But a glowing Cuban sends waves of warmth over him.
With vision unobscured, crystalline
Air, like a tunnel through his mind,
The hunter presses his anxious digit
Against the trigger’s futile protest.
His mind is clear, and after a moment of hesitation
The quarry suddenly disappears,
Amid a hail of shattering glass.
Hands now shaking, the deed now done,
The hunter leaves to gather himself.


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