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,
We tense, and say,
“Goodbye, rival. May we meet again.”
And with that, we shoot.