Here’s a bonus poem that veers away from my intended “project” or theme, which is to write every poem this month about or significantly “around” music. The only connection here is that I was on my way to play music when the inspiration struck in the form of these unlikely fellow travelers.
Furry
On the way to the gig
I saw a motorcyclist wearing
a gigantic costume bunny head
traveling with a passenger
wearing a similarly gigantic fluffy
head of a cat. It was impossible
to say whether either of them
wore helmets underneath
or whether or not the rider
in front could see where he
was going. I imagined the cop
pulling them over, which had
to have happened if they were
on the road for any significant
stretch, asking them to please
remove their furry heads so he
could check that they were indeed
following the helmet law. Once my
brother, who hobnobs with rednecks,
told me that he had heard
that schools were putting litter boxes
inside their bathrooms for kids who
identified themselves as cats.
I told him this was utter bullshit.
My brother was incensed by the notion
that a friend of his would willingly
pass bullshit along. And this is part
of the problem, isn’t it, that people
we like might have minds full of garbage.
The trick is not to be receptive and impressionable,
a trick for which my brother was not capable.
But furries on motorbikes, I could see
that with my eyes; I experienced it
first hand, and thus, I believed it was possible,
nay, I believed it was real.
michael jarmer 