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The Predator
In my cane chair gazing at the ceiling of the curved beige verandah, the black light embedded in masonry long even slats surround casting star-like beams across.
Deep black shadow running down its spine dull brown twine fat lizard gorged on the glut of post-monsoon insects.
Black beady eyes flicker-ticker, prance carnivorous predator in hypnotic trance.
A moth innocently clings folded wings danger lurks beside; precise gentle meticulous despite its size and satiated belly slithers, wriggles its sinews, toward a deceptively easy prey.
But the monsoon glut the hunter's instinct blunts; a false move, a quivering flurry of wings and the lizard retreats in resigned
defeat, then slips away to devour more accessible less exciting maggots effete.
Undeserving, poor prowess, lost the fight, disappointed, I switch off the light.
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