Bigfoot Bigotry

By J. Commander

Not having the pleasure of prior
acquaintance, I wasn’t sure whether
their upturned noses were
a constitutional characteristic or
a register of their displeasure
on finding me suddenly in their
midst. The work of a moment
dispelled my uncertainty. They looked
to me, then at the earth, and then took
to the trees, unwilling to share ground
with the same feet whose tracks
leave only ashes in their wake.
Blending with bark, they vanished at once
and as one, while I once
again stood alone in my
greyscaled-whitewashed world, though I
knew they could still see me
for miles and miles.

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