Every year in Pamplona
to avoid the charging bulls and steers
released for a few minutes of frivolity.
Men, who think themselves real men,
like Ernest Hemingway,
have run this race and written tales
of the courage and bravado
of these souls.
Those of us not involved,
I would dare say,
mostly call them fools
to run down narrow and congested streets
in front of charging
1,000 pound animals with horns.
Some day,
I may root for the bulls
from the balconies
realizing that upon conclusion
of their race
the bulls are killed
and become someone's steak dinner.
For Hemingway may have awakened
the next day hung over
inspiring The Sun Also Rises.
But for the bulls,
the running is more a cruel
sunset.
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