Sasquatch

He works alone
in cavernous stockrooms,
or as a night watchman
guarding unwanted things.
He is never behind the counter.

He is the man
who has the social skills
to fill racks.
Occasionally he is found
as a clerical error,
still at work in a defunct depot
long since depleted
of function.

A yellowing Rolodex
may yet yield a contact number
like a mythical footprint.
Someone may need to call him,
but what shall we call him?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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