That was me yawning at the light –
my gold tooth and black eye.
Oh, how my heart stopped too,
when I saw your blue Explorer.
I’m the guy who wants more blue brick buildings,
pool-tile blue, blue that calls out, dive in friend.
A blue church of blue Saint Blue
with a bathtub Madonna at every entrance.
A big blue barn,
the old blue schoolhouse,
a blue brick bungalow
whose front yard trembles
with blooming yellow swamp candles.
We’ll track Gigantopithecus together,
all the days of our lives,
until we find the Yeti or Sasquatch,
or Bigfoot hiding out in Beaumont Texas,
or the poor the Minnesota Ice Man –
carted around from carnival to fair
cruelly obscured by his blue-hued block.
I’ll steal us a Black Hawk Helicopter
and night vision goggles.
We’ll swoop down
for the Abominable Snowman,
where only I know where to look:
a tidy Cape Cod tucked in by a lake
below a fine dusting of snow;
fresh cedar and fennel strung in every window;
a bowl of loganberries on the kitchen table.
Him, the wife, and Junior, roasting perch at the fire,
under a framed front page from the Weekly World News.
And when the snows pile above our roof,
I’ll climb the frozen blue dunes
to pull your bike from the tree.
I’ll swab camphor on your aching tooth
We’ll grab a coffee can from the basement,
where we keep things
too precious to throw away,
and sit on the floor matching nuts to bolts,
until we hear the first drip of Spring.
Ed Tato shares a birthday with blues singer Joanna Carter and radio station KPMC in Bakersfield, but he can neither sing nor play a musical instrument. He reads regularly in public and enjoys few things as much as hearing a well-spoken poem, though he’s often vexed by the finer points of poetic meter. An MFA graduate of Syracuse, he lives, for the moment, in the village of Marcellus, obsessed by audiobooks of Tacitus. Ed’s two poetry collections are available online. Some of his poems can be found there, as well, or in various print journals.