Bigfoot Comes Out

In a Kiwanis hall, somewhere in central New Jersey, 
they held their annual meeting.  Coelacanth, the elder
of the group, presided over a sea of folding chairs.  
One by one, from parts unknown, they filtered in.
The front rows filled up quickly - Mountain Gorilla, 
Giant Panda, the Congo Peacock.  Quietly, 
they applauded the arrival of the Chinese Crested Tern. 
The back rows were filled as well, but their occupants
sought shadows, hid their identity behind dark glasses.
Some loomed impossibly large inside their long coats.  
The middle rows remained empty, one seat marked, 
"Reserved for the Dodo."

At the hour, Coelacanth slapped his pectoral fins
down on the podium to draw attention.  "This meeting
will come to order.  I want to thank you all for coming, 
particularly our brothers in the back row, who 
must always arrive in such secrecy.  Now, then. 
I would like to skip over the opening remarks, 
and to reserve the old business until later.  
It is a very special day."  A jungle of excited voices
began to chatter from the front rows. "Those of you 
among the Discovered, we welcome a new member 
to our ranks."  The noise steadily increased.  "Bigfoot, 
would you make your way up to the stage?"

The clamor suddenly shifted to the back of the room.  
As one tall, shadowed figure made its way toward 
the aisle, the others moved back in amazement.
Yeti stared, open-mouthed, at the empty chair beside him
then forward, repeatedly.  Thunderbird crackled.  
Nessie and Mokele-mbembe thrashed their tails, 
overturning a row of seats.  Even Chupacabra glanced up 
from behind his El Diario to mutter, "Fucking babosos."

With arms unfolded like penknife blades, he adjusted
the microphone for his height.  Stoop-shouldered, 
he stood there and squinted, smoothing the ragged fur
on the backs of his hands.  When he spoke, his voice was 
incongruously soft, and the back rows bent forward to hear:

"Hello, everyone, I'm Bigfoot," and an out-of-sync 
chorus warbled back, "Hello, Bigfoot."  "Or Wendigo,
or Sasquatch, or Skookum - I've had many names,
given by many men who've pursued me, 
for so long I've forgotten my own.  Once the forests 
and moon-shining rivers all belonged to me, 
and I to them; once each mountain welcomed me 
like its child.  Now the trails are all rutted by dirt bikes, 
and I'm herded by each suburb into diminishing 
games of hide-and-seek.  I am tired of hiding.
So I've taken the advice of our fellow members,
contacted a good cryptozoologist, and next week
I come out to the press and our public.  I even 
have an agent lined up.  I feel good about this,"
his voice trailed off.  He stood, a bit unsteady.  

Outside, an eighteen-wheeled trailer rumbled by
toward a Hazmat site in Trenton; the windows shook.
Bigfoot waited.  Finally, the front rows began 
to call out in approval,  "Good going, buddy,"  
"We're right there along with you, brother,"
and they clapped in gradually-achieved unison. 
He beamed out over them like a beauty queen.

Meanwhile, the back rows had been muttering
among themselves the last half of the speech.  
But as good will filtered through the rusted rank 
of chairs, some (those with arms) began to join
in hesitant applause.  Furtively some smiled,
baring rows of polished teeth.  Yeti lurched 
to the front, grabbing Bigfoot in a furry, 
full-bodied hug.  Nessie stood to all four feet 
and tossed aside her disguise, evangelized. 

Just as they were about to link arms and sing,
Chupacabra jumped up on the seat of his chair.  
Spikes bristling, wings spread, he shouted, "¡Chingalo!
What the hell is the matter with you idiots?
And you, Gigante, what have they talked you into?"
Stunned, they all fell silent.  Coelacanth, sitting 
comfortably among the front row, turned his head
and replied, "The boy has made his decision, now 
leave him alone!  Not every one of us wants 
to live in the Dark Ages."  The others nodded. 

Chupa growled, "Yes, I live in the Dark Ages, 
I have made my home mythology and fear.
But I can tell you one thing - in that place
my brothers and I have chosen, we will live."
In a few leaps, he reached the front end 
of the room.  "Where will you live?  You,
who throw in your lot with asqueroso humanity, 
where will you be when they use you up?
Bigfoot, Sasquatch, what-have-you; once you've been
a Disney movie and a Happy Meal kids' toy, 
do you think they'll really give two shits?  
They'll throw a couple of you in some zoo, 
train one for the last circus wandering the globe,
as for the rest; they might declare a Bigfoot
hunting season."  The room was in chaos.  
Bigfoot still clung, disbelieving, to the Yeti.

Coelacanth hopped to the platform and bellowed,
"Order!  No one gave you license, fool, to lecture.
I think we know what benefits Discovery brings."
The goatsucker turned on him, "You think so, 
old man?  Take a look."  He jumped down 
in front of Giant Panda.  "You, mighty one, 
who once roamed throughout China unfettered,
how many of you have survived the conservation
of the West?  Some day you will be remembered
only by stamps.  And you," he turned to the 
Mountain Gorilla, "who hid from man for centuries,
what have you gained from letting them into your
mist?  Any one of you could crush a human throat,
yet they take those mighty hands as their trophies.
And el Señor Coelacanth, my friend, how many
of you, once caught, ever return to your depths?"

Most of the creatures formerly of the back rows
now returned there, or slunk into the night.  
Coelacanth stood at the podium muttering, 
"Too few ... far too few."  The rest were silent.
Chupacabra, sorrow filling the dark wells 
of his eyes, took Bigfoot, dazed, by the hand.
"Take some advice, my friend, from one who knows:
Your best possible choice is to stay lost."