Flashback

I am five

at a campsite, listening

to the park ranger rant

about dangerous bears in the area

clutching my stuffed Smokey.

Dad scoffs as

the ranger lists the strict rules:

- Hang coolers from trees.

- No snacks in tents.

- Never leave

dirty dishes

garbage

soap

anything that smells remotely like food

where it might attract bears,

the bears,

those goddamn bears.

The zealous ranger

adjusts his green hat, shouts:

Do not feed the bears.

Do not feed the bears.

Do not feed the bears.

He pauses

wiping sweat from red face

asks for questions.

Dad whispers in my ear.

I raise my five-year-old hand

fingers waggling and ask,

“When do we get to feed the bears?”