The Hunter

The hunter, he does not see the forest. He does not see the jungle.
They mean nothing to him.

The hunter, he walks into a restaurant. A lounge. A bar.
Gently, he leans on a wall by the entrance. He stands still.
He lets his eyes do the walking.

And he is no longer capable of seeing the bar. The lounge. The restaurant.

And his eyes report back: Busy three star bar and grill looking for an energetic self-starter. Two years in the industry required. Knowledge of wines a plus. Apply in person.

And he leaves.
He keeps walking. The eyes, they stand still. They roll back at him. They see nothing.

And he enters a doorway.

And his eyes report back: Hip casual restaurant. Searching for new prep and barista. Opportunity for advancement. Paste resume into the email. No attachments.

And his nose gathers the thick coffee aroma. And red brick walls surround him. Several paintings are scatter throughout the space.
But he does not see the walls, the people. He does not see the paintings.
They mean nothing to him.

And he keeps walking.



The hunter, he does not see his own eyes.
The hunter, he misses them.
Because this is one job for which he never asked for.

Because the hunter - he's starving.