Bear Country

creepy little brown bugs crawl on me in my sleep

they’re not very fast — easy to crush when eyes open

(like snow patrol)

they have long stingers or maybe tails or maybe just

              appendages for bug sex

b/c even tho i keep waking up with one cresting the

              circumference of my neck /

i keep not getting stung

in montana, everyone thinks we’re str8

              which i find wildly offensive

& you say i know but it’s probably safer this way

              which i know to be true

it’s 2023 so i wretch at this as reality

i spend weeks writing diversity statement after diversity statement

              w/ varying character counts

              or is it word counts or character counts

              w/ spaces + word counts w/o spaces

just GOOGLE ME already

the big camera in the sky has been cataloguing my

              abundant transformations

since before google glass was getting ripped off the faces

              of tech bros @ gay bars in san francisco

i wonder what the reader at X institution would think

              if they read my D statement b2b my kill bro/kill cop poems

              dripping w/ blood

when we drive thru wyoming / the sky is split open

              by shards of lightning

i think of GE’s deft turns of prose

volt through the heart,

teenage skulls against windshields

silent injuries

the patterned branching of driftwood pine

              against purple light

crystal clear snow melt where you can see

              20 ft down to dirt dusted stone

the first time we watch the sunrise together

              (on yr bday)

& then the second time we watch the sunrise together

              wrapped in fake fur + gauzy peach beams

& the excitement of another first as concentrated

              light pushes past heaven’s gate —

we go on a hike later in grizzly territory

              & i clap the entire time to dissuade

              any bears from eating us

we head cross an 80 yr old woman whose

              been hiking this trail since 1974

              & has definitely hiked more today

              than i have in a year

              (unless you count urban hiking)

              she is not afraid of the bears

we criss cross w/ a woman who has a baby

              in a backpack

              eating a peanut butter cliff bar

& a revolver, like western style load one bullet at a time

              on her belt, gleaming in the pre alpine glow —

behind my sunglasses / i try not to stare

i haven’t seen a cop in over a week

but i have seen someone w/ a gun nearly

every day