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The Tiger Likes His Stripes


by Darryl Price


even if they are made from 
full blown leaves and relentless sun. 

They make him feel less lonely. 
Is less lonely the same as 
less visible? Where have you gone? 
It's always on my tongue. It 

doesn't need words to speak up. 
It only needs to stay crouching 
and hidden. Waiting for something that 
makes any sense. They don't want 

to know me. They don't know 
you. The tiger likes his stripes 

and I like the tiger. We 
are not mortal enemies. We are 

not soldiers in a unit. We 
don't hunt together. We don't sleep 
together, but have shared stars. The 
moon. The tiger likes his stripes
 
and so do I like mine. 
They come at a different price. 
I admit it. The tiger likes 
his stripes, but you act as 

if none of that matters. It 
has nothing to do with you. 

How could you be so cruel? 
The tiger likes his stripes. Soon 

they will be turned into children's 
stories, into butter, into shadow. The
tiger likes to lick his stripes 
while stretching out claws. Don't let 

me down. I never want you 
to leave. You should stay in 
every moment, with or without us.
You are not just an animal. 

None of us are only spirits.
The guarantee is good for forever.    
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