Big feet, big dreams

Let me come
follow your paths
find those secret pockets of the world
when time is the setting of the sun
and the earth’s mysteries are lit
in darkness of the night
by only the stars

I love Bigfoot. I hope he’d like me enough to have s’mores with me and count the stars until we fall asleep under a canopy of leaves. He is an anti-hero. Hairy, unattractive and unsocial. He is elusive. So much so he doesn’t even exist.

He makes grown men become artsy craftsy making huge clay imprints of footprints that look like summer camp ashtrays. They tell tales of smelly creatures taller than bears on their hind legs. He inspires film and the arts. He is a hirsute muse dancing through our souls telling us his story in shadows. I like to think his other names Yeti, Skunk Ape, Sasquatch are to him what Sasha Fierce is to Beyonce. A new name and expression of the genius of his way of life.

If you follow the migration of Bigfoot his life is one big road trip. He must know the best shortcuts ever. He is spotted in the wildest, coldest places that the world has forsaken. He makes his kingdom there and thrives and loves and lives by his own rules. In a world we have been forbidden to dream of since childhood he forges paths unknown and unseen. Valleys, mountains, rivers are nothing to the goal of his destination. What a world without and within his must enjoy.

He doesn’t follow our blueprint of life. He doesn’t vote or get a good job. He doesn’t drool over antropologie dresses and coats like I do. He is his coat. He is naked. Raw. Wild. He shakes his paw at science and shouts in his Bigfoot voice, “I ain’t your missing link”. He doesn’t worry about taxes or cholesterol or about the new Twilight movie. Though for the latter part his wife and daughters do. He is of himself content to be obscure and have the world obscured.

I’d like to travel these roads with him and see the worlds so hidden from view. What tales they would tell and lessons they’d teach. Mysteries unfolded like a blanket for me to wrap around myself and warm the marrow of my soul. But he doesn’t bathe and that’s a deal breaker. This cryptological genius will not be defined or made to fit in a box so we all feel safe. He teaches me to make new roads without permission. To be the mystery while unraveling life’s puzzles. That all in life cannot be explained. And I like it that way.

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