Sightings by Don Thompson
published in Volume 10, Issue 3 on December 31st, 20031.
A good myth must have its own fur, loose and shaggy.
And beneath, the flesh should quiver with each flat footfall,
clearly discernible... and not easily faked.
Bigfoot lumbers on, glancing over her shoulder at you
without much interest, and then vanishes into the trees
where sunlight leaks through cracks in the real world.
At night, if she crosses the road just beyond your high beams,
it's as if an errant thought has slipped from right brain to left,
transforming you, irrevocably, through no fault of your own.
Now the man you see in the mirror knows something you don't.
You stay up late listening to crackpot radio when you used to sleep,
settling for mere dreams. Now anything is possible.