Killer Instinct Poem by Dorsey Baker

He lives in a one room shack
Way in the back side
of that great big mountain
Alone
Except for an old dog
He still goes hunting
When the weather permits
He still goes fishing
Almost every morning
And slowing down
It seldom crosses his mind
He don't complain too much
But sometimes
His old bones they do
He watches boxing and football
On his small screen television
And attends wrestling matches
Sometimes because in his heart
There is still
The killer instinct!