by C. Riggleman
I am the hunter.
Creeping up slowly for the kill.
Blood will spill and animals will fear.
I see my prey now.
Rows of pakaged meats with expiration dates.
I have the knowledge handed down from my father and his.
Pockets full of ammo.
Grants, Lincolns, and Washingtons.
Soul, harmony, coming of age, thats what the Elders believed.
Calcium, Low Fat, and Natural and Artificial Preservatives.
Thats what I find now.
Written April 30, 2001, 6:05 pm
Read 987 times