At the
Sanmiguelada
An hour
of torment
Kicks,
blows, taunts,
A man
hung on to your tail
As you
swung about to drop him
And now
nobly stands the bull
Panting,
exhausted
Staring
at the fiendish mob
Drunk on
spirits and ego
Jumping
and shouting madness
Insanity
bleeding from their eyes
Waving
red capes and scarves
Dancing
on red stained streets
Blood of
their compadres
Fallen in
the first rush
You made
down the ramp
In fear
and bewilderment
You
followed your instincts
Were
these creatures following theirs?