Rivals

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Rivals

Strutting quietly,

                       Alley everywhere, all dark,

                       No light, torch, or eyes, cloak over

                       Head, and stooping down,

                       He carries a paper and an arrow,

                       I watch, keenly,

                       Cloak over my back, covering me,

                       Standing with a bow.

 

And we face, eyes determined,

                       Face set in lines,

                      Smiles lingering,

                      We tense, and say,

                       “Goodbye, rival. May we meet again.”

                      And with that, we shoot.

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