the bachelor in the cornfield
is bred to stalk prey
crystalline snow falls on the barrel of his gun
the clean metal
cold before firing
he is alone with his reflection
upon the bitter water
of a lifeless pond
no one else can see what the bachelor creates
in the middle of nowhere
no one else will know what the bachelor did
when he entered the clearing
he is quiet in his camouflage complex
his footsteps measure
the distance to Chance, Fortune and back
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