On a trek through a nearby forest
spied Bigfoot sitting on a boulder
reading a book of my poems.
Having seen Bigfoot a number of
times before, I wasn’t surprised.
I was surprised seeing him
reading with eyeglasses on.
I didn’t know he needed eyeglasses
for reading, and I wondered where
he got the prescription for them.
I was more surprised to see him
reading a book of poems by me
since I’ve never published a book
of my poems and don’t care to.
I could only speculate somehow he
took the unauthorized liberty of
publishing them himself.
I know what you’re thinking. It’s
absurd to think of that hairy beast
having the ability to print a book.
To which I must retort, you have
no idea of the magical things that
Bigfoot can do, and, by the way,
he’s not just a hairy beast.
Just as I was about to ask him
where the hell did he get a book
of poems I’d never published,
a portal appeared. Bigfoot laughed,
waved, and disappeared into it.
I tried to follow him to catch that
rascal, but the portal evaporated
just as I tried to enter it.
And the mystery of how Bigfoot
was reading a book of my poems
I never had published perplexed me
for a few weeks.
After pondering the anomaly
extensively day and night, now
my guess is with his paranormal
powers he probably psychically
manifested the book just to,
per usual, play a prank on me.
Bob Boyd
