The Mirror and the Fool

A happening across, a meeting of strangers
As I stalked my game, it was there
A mirror, odd, and far from home

Weighing down a bush nearby.

I approached, forgetting my task
Such a curious thing to find in a desert

With beautiful etches in its wood frame

That was clearly helping no one out here.

I held it up, and quickly let go
For it was hot from an oppressive sun
But not before I'd seen my face

So hardened and odd, and far from home.

What use does a hunter have for the living?
What use does a romantic have for the dead?

I picked up the mirror, ignoring its sting
An ignorant gun over my shoulder
And walked back the way I came
To leave this alien place to live.