Chase of the elephant, death of the poet.

An elephant took a shine to me.

Rejected he chased me under
storm-darkened skies.

Through graffiti-green forests
and grey plains, until the streets
swallowed me, protected me.

Hungry and abused I reached
for the palace of gin, its fire spreading through me.

My mind floated to poetry. Comfort and escape in flowing verses of love
and beauty.

Yet respite is short in this jungle. The
elephant spurned is the creature
of wrath. And he does not forget.

The beasts awoke at his call. The
drumbeats louder now. The herd
wielded cropped hair and baseball bats.

Turn and run or stand and fight. Two minds
but only one image - the weary, doomed gazelle of a thousand nature
programs.

They left me there, the canal so dark, so deadly. Flotsam, arms
flailing. Like a dead octopus, but just a dead poet.