No jetfuel
No maps
No GPS
From the straits of Alaska
to the tips of Tasmania
Flying ceaseless
To escape the cold
for which I only need
Push a button
Flying straight into
the range of my game
My greed's cage
To be watched
admired, awed
And at last hunted
Making it to my plate
soothing my palate
Insatiable appetite
And no one knows
the reason behind
Kookaburra's laughter wild
Bird-brain
pitted against
Human cunning
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