Big Foot

Your blurry pics have me perturbed, sasquatch. Forgive me when I ask

for clarity, for recency, for too many whiskered bottom dwellers

have swum into my pond. Alas, we meet for piñon gins after so many

woofs. Underneath the bar top I tug at the knots of your woolen thigh

I may not be on your playing field but I rarely trim either we bond

over our hirsute habituals; your beard, my dirty blonde ‘stache

we unsugared lumbersexuals brush mane against mane

hoping the soft side of velcro sticks to the soft side of velcro.

Nothing catches. Minute hooks essential for adhesion, woebegone

I longed to be hunted and gathered by your misanthropy

But my bare-footed beau, you’ve vamoosed me for whiskerless

bucks awed by your warmth, your ability to twiddle fire.

Flint! Flint! Armfuls of tinder! Crack these embers to the high

pine tops, huck them skyward to their twinkling cousins!

I will follow the Northern, wish to reminisce without photographic

evidence—for you have left big shoes for my next lover to fill.

The Bad Boys of Summer

I am a sucker for the charms of hummingbirds

Passing through our estival swells

Though I worry for the Rufous’ puny heart

Hundreds of flaps per second reckon

How many from Mexico to Alaska & back?

The rumours are not true: they do not

Hitch rides on the napes of Canadian geese

Of course, it would be cute if they did

But no, they bully: territorial bastards

Necks wreathed red & orange

Like baskets of plucked bell peppers

Feathers like scales confirming tiny dinosaurs

Still dart from jicama to rama del toro

Swooping in like the boy visiting from out of town

Taking little sips here and there of this and that

Then off to the next those flippant little fuckers.