Sitting at Boy Scout Camp

Sitting at Boy Scout Camp

I’m not a Boy Scout; I work in the kitchen.
That would explain why I’m here this afternoon.

The heat comes from the ground, worming
into my shoes and spreads to my head-
heat from the sun strikes me from above,
much like the oven heat hit me
a bit ago when I got the corndogs out.

Here in this big beautiful forest,
a bright new world to the little campers,
there’s a deadness about my life that
has me drooping my head, half-closing
my eyes, smoking another cigarette.

I’ve never been one to have romantic luck.
Seems like I buy a woman a beer or whatever,
she says thanks and by the time
I say you’re welcome she’s gone. Lately
I’ve just been buying stuff for myself.

Something small moves, near the picnic
table where I’m sitting, and I look.
It’s a chipmunk approaching me. No, not
a chipmunk. Chipmunks are cute: they have stomachs
that stick out, acorns in their cheeks,
they talk in squeaky voices.

This is a squirrel, tall-eared, lean, dirty-
he’d stink if I sniffed him.
He probably wants my candy.

I don’t actually know if it’s a him or a her,
But it seems like a male. I’ll just get it
settled in my mind that it’s a man.

He works his way towards me, moving in quick,
jerky movements, so low to the ground.
He’s nice to watch, actually. Now and then
he picks some twig or rock or pinecone up
with his hairy fingers, sniffs it, and tries
to get something out of it with his hands and mouth.

And what hands he has! His fingers are like
my fingers; he has knuckles and I have knuckles.

This encounter is fleeting. It’s not often that squirrels
spend so this much time this close to humans.

I’m being quiet so I don’t scare him away.

Part of me wants to leave a cookie out for him
at a certain time every day, and each day he
would get closer and closer, more comfortable
and more comfortable. Eventually we’d be friends.

That’s enough. The squirrel doesn’t know who I am.
I don’t really know who it is. I might as well deny ever
having seen the animal. I’m not having an uplifting
experience sitting here; my break’s over
and I gotta get back in there.