the man and the fox

by Aluki Chupik-Hall

His motions haphazard:
The man in the tavern.
She wasn’t quite sure what to think,
His appearance was tattered,
But it didn’t matter:
He was desperate to buy her a drink.

“So name me your price,
For this whiskey on ice,
What sort of deed must I do?”
“Someone so fine
Shouldn’t pay me a dime.
No, I’m simply here for the view.”

“Well that’s pretty fair.”
And she drank and he stared,
And he finally had to agree.
“A fox such as yourself,
Would look good on my shelf,
If you’d like, you can come home with me.”

She declined with a gesture,
But beginning to fester,
Was anger inside that man’s heart.
He’d done everything good,
And hardly understood,
Why she had gone and torn him apart.

So when she was long gone,
With his hunting cap on,
He went into the woods for some prey.
And just was his luck,
That no sooner he struck,
A beautiful fox on that day.

Did his rifle strike true?
Oh, what would he do?
For he wasn’t quite sure what he saw.
The fox hadn’t fled,
Simply threw back her head,
And let out a laboured guffaw.

And to the man’s shock,
Soon began to talk:
“I just let you have all your fun.
And if I say so myself,
You’ll look good on my shelf.”
And quickly, she picked up his gun.

So woman or fox,
Who hunts and who stalks,
Saw only the man’s hate increase.
And deserving was he,
On that night to be,
Hanging on her mantelpiece.