Bigfoot

The government doesn’t want me to believe in Bigfoot. The hunting shows they put out make us believers seem silly. One time a hunter said Bigfoot was into apple pie. And I don’t see why he wouldn’t be but I don’t see how often that would come up for him naturally. How do their smarts compare to ours? There’s some theories Bigfoot can travel between dimensions; I’m not sure I buy into that part. If someone were to travel between dimensions, why would he hang around the one where he’s been hunted, doubted, and his habitat is being destroyed? An intelligent being would choose somewhere else if he could. I know the fish in the lake outside would choose somewhere fresher, somewhere lacking dead bodies. I don’t think there’s any body of water where there aren’t dead bodies? I heard the rain water isn’t drinkable anymore. What is bigfoot doing? Dead body water or acid rain? Fish with mercury out the wazoo; the government doesn’t want us to believe in Bigfoot because then maybe we’d be worried. How is he doing it? How are we doing it? I surprised Bigfoot hasn’t destroyed our property back. A quiet dignity in the war against ourselves.

I’m a recovering agoraphobic. When I’m triggered, the doorway is a glassed window. “You should be embarrassed to go out there, you’re a dog.” I look out at the lake and the trees surrounding it, sip my coffee. We’re in this together Bigfoot, the world doesn’t need our proof. Inside, we are fine. Your hairy arms and me on my way, becoming more Bigfoot by the day.

I could glide through the trees, smoke a joint by the water. The idea of breaking my glass door makes me nauseous. My husband will be home in 8 hours. I could read a book, watch a documentary, clean the apartment. I know the sun feels good but it looks like glistening golden needles in stark loud air.

I think of me being the star of my own Patterson film, walking weirdly to pick up cigarettes. He’s outside, he’s gangley. He goes to work when he’s supposed to. I tell my coworker, sorry my agoraphobia was triggered, what a joke I feel like sometimes. The beautiful world terrifies me.

I was brave enough to tell the world I was a boy, despite, despite, despite.

But not brave enough to go to work today despite, despite, despite.

I think about the coworker who told me he experienced agoraphobia when he was in 20’s too. I imagine his vulnerability on display, the look in his eyes, a beautiful rapid cat. I wonder what scared him. I know deep down, I’m scared of the world rejecting me, like they reject the bigfoot. You aren’t real, you’re just ill. We’ll fix you, go back to your cave. There’s pockets of freedom, caves in this world, where the other creatures are. The bigfoots meet the moth men and pretend we belong somewhere in the world that calls us cryptid.