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Reading in the yard
Under the floodlight
A white animal appear
Against the bamboos
And the tender shoots
Swaying
Under the dark sky
Where wind blows
And clouds drift by
Not a fox fairy
As scholars encounter
And write about
Fanciful relief
From their scholarly toil
Before a royal exam
Just a possum
Turning its ugly
garbage-eating head
At me
Those hallucinations
Bursting
Disappearing
I fumble for my smart phone
For a stupid shot
When I turn around
It is already gone
As mysteriously as it has come
Taunted
Annoyed
Frustrated
And anger welling up
I take out my bow and arrows
For an ambush tonight
There is a private paradise here
To be cherished
Restored
And carefully guarded
My son emerge
from behind the screen door
In his pajamas
Knowing what I was doing
He runs back
Gets his sling shot
And a handful of tiny rocks
Ready for the hunt
As father and son
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
We practice the sling shot
At the cider tree
At the bamboo wind chime
At the Truegreen sign
In the middle of the lawn
Moths fly by
Mosquitos bite
Brainless yellow bugs
Bump around
Or spin belly-up
On the ground
"Go on inside, son,
Too many bugs.
Let dad sit and watch."
"No, Dad,"
He looked at me
Brushing off a buzzing bug,
Eyes shining against the dark:
"I want to grow up to be a man
Just like you."
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