On Saturday, 23 June 2001, I Became The First Man to Use Elizabeth Bishop to Produce a Lecherous Unused Come-On Line in a Gay Bar
You there, moose boy, shoulders big
in your striped shirt, slumming at the dive bar,
lumbering into my path unaware
all stupidity and innocence,
from behind the curve of horseshoe bar
my friend and I stare, marvel at your stance,
look as looked past as some other species.
In your normal habitat, some tasteful café,
you order your drink and return to fellow moose
without apes’ gawkings at your cumbersome walk;
no surprise we stare unnoticed.
The bartender’s just a road to cross
toward liquid vegetation and further foraging.
The rest might be pond frogs, moving branches,
unthreats not to count or assess.
Moose boy, path blocker, vision of a world
which I never will enter –
gaze past me again with those glimmering empty eyes;
stand there, snort, taunt me with collision.