I spent some time in a chat room
trying to meet women who are also
interested in Gila monsters.

It seemed inconclusive,
so we reconciled ourselves
to another weekend à deux.

Maybe a trail run – well –
on a leash?

(She is reasonably well-behaved,
occasionally leaping at people
to lick their faces,
which is disconcerting,

because of the forked tongue

and how long it is.)

We found a bankrupt video store
with a close out bin of VHS tapes,
which was cool – we still have our
Sony recorder.

I was rummaging for 70s-era Bronson,
though my Gila monster leans toward
rom coms and British period stuff.

At any rate, at a buck a pop,
we found plenty to take home,
along with popcorn, Cheetos,
a 46 pound bag of dog chow,

(I can’t really figure out
what Gilas eat.)

onion dip, Flaming Hot Doritos,
a case of Diet Dr. Pepper (and a bowl) –

vintage Star Wars video games
with two controllers
that do the light saber sounds.

It was a great weekend.