The sun sits high now, and I am but a man.
Though as time passes, the sun sinks and
my silver moon surfaces,
I become a hunter.
As the bartender splashes cheap liquor into spotted glasses,
I stalk quietly in the corner as a lesser man’s prey stumbles
drunkenly, clumsily across the sticky floor.
My eyes glide smoothly over the room,
evaluating my most promising prospects.
My eyes settle on one;
she sits proudly and respectably, and I watch my plan
unfold in my mind.
I will be charming, and convincing;
modest and self-depricating.
She will resist, at first, as they always do,
but the sincere look in my eyes will persuade her that
I am not “every other guy.”
She will fall head first into my pool of lies,
and tonight she will be mine.
And tomorrow,
she will mean nothing.