hunting season is in the air

a rifle in the shed

the deer’s leaps so high

gunning down is  his art

taxidermy his twin brother

till he was on the table

a hole in his chest

unexpected jest

a hunter hunted

the deer taunted

a flash of temporary insanity

the loss of all his vanity

a permanent kind of temporariness

with a gust of happiness

it came and went

as it always does

in that final moment

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be sure to purge (thoughts,ideas,complaints) if at all you feel the nudge

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