In his last few years
Datus took oxygen through a plastic tube
from a portable tank
he pushed around on big black wheels.
He'd tell stories of the two times
he met Bigfoot in the woods
and how on both occasions
she made advances toward him
that he understood to be
of a distinctly provocative nature.
Perhaps they were the misguided impulses
of a lonely creature missing her true mate.
Datus said he didn't stick around
long enough to find out.
But he did get a good enough
look at her to spend a lot of time
drawing her portrait from memory
and making photocopies of her likeness
at the library's copy machine.
He would emit growling sounds
from deep in his throat
as he pushed the print button repeatedly.
An earthy aroma drifted up
from his clothes as he worked
and his hair was wild and uncombed.
His beard grew unimpeded
by conventional grooming standards
and in his milky eyes
it was just possible
to see a hint of longing and regret
at not having seen his lady
since those first meetings
five decades ago.
About the Author: Mario Milosevic’s poems have appeared in many print and online journals, and in the anthology Poets Against the War. He lives in Washington State, where he works as a small town librarian. He has published two collections of poems, Animal Life and Fantasy Life.
Copyright © 2004 by Mario Milosevic. The poem not be reproduced in any form without the author’s express written permission.