Thursday, February 14, 2013
The brochure for the wildlife sanctuary cried out to us: "Be Stalked By a Mountain Lion!" So we went, foregoing opportunities to be served by a sommelier, pounded by a masseuse, guided by a docent or entertained by a performer.
When we arrived at the sanctuary, and I announced to the ticket taker that we would like to be stalked by a mountain lion, he looked confused. Craning his neck to shout a question to someone who made something above minimum wage, he said, "Do we have a mountain lion?"
"That's the cougar," came the disinterested response.
"Oh," said the ticket taker. "He hides a lot."
My heart sank, but we trudged on. We weren't stalked, and while I contemplated a breach of warranty claim, my wife wrote a poem. Indiana Poet Laureate, Karen Kovacik is featuring that poem today on her blog, No more corn, as a Valentine's Day poem. We reproduce it here:
On Not Being Stalked by a Mountain Lion BE STALKED BY A MOUNTAIN LION! said the brochure. But we weren’t stalked, Although for a lazy hour along the path We strolled and talked-- Totally helpless, as you pointed out, Pitifully clueless, meant for lion-prey (Apart from the fence and the ditch too broad to leap Even for mountain lions). You scanned the sway And shadow play of branches for a glimpse Of that quicksilver shape-- O the rising unease, the chills, the chase, the last- Minute, hairsbreadth escape! “He’s probably sleeping,” the gate attendant shrugged When you complained No icy green-gold gaze had pricked our necks. Later it rained, And we drove back and chased each other into bed And slept an hour or two. There was nothing boring about not being stalked By a mountain lion with you. This poem originally appeared in Able Muse Review.