When Sasquatch was found face down on a dual carriageway
the world united in a quiet and shameful silence.
He was moved to a secure location and subjected
to a live autopsy on the Discovery Channel revealing,
like a huge rose, circulatory, muscular and skeletal systems
much like our own but with all the predictable differences.
His stomach contents proved him to be a gentle vegetarian,
foraging on low ground, particularly enjoying
varieties of berries usually poisonous to humans.
A reconstructive video demonstrated how he would have
walked, run and rested.
They put photos of his hands, feet and closed eyes
on the news and as part of an extensive ten-page spread
in a memorial edition of The Times.
He was auctioned off to an anonymous bidder.
After public outcry, the anonymous bidder
entered into negotiations with the British Museum.
Plans were put in place to ensure that he would be interred
in such a place to be viewed by the public,
who came in droves to see this thing so long denied to them.
Breathing on the glass and touching
the animatronic model beside the glass case
despite the signs thanking them for not doing so.
In my dreams he followed me around all my life.
When I walked through a shopping centre, he was behind me,
peering in through the shop windows at the colourful cakes,
which he longed for.
And when I walked along a pavement
he was on the traffic side, taking the hits,
the headlights of a million cars setting him on fire.