Bears are so sad in the summer,
a sadness that is historical –
a sadness over salmon.

The salmon swim upstream
a few miles less each year,
farther down from all the grizzlies
who wait there open-mouthed.

Truth is always contingent.
The salmon, too, are contingent.

Fish, like bears, are social creatures,
their lives governed by
social patterns,
social context,
epistemologies,
etiquette.
They sometimes use swear words.

Bears are so sad in the summer.
They reject meta-narratives
like canned sardines.

I, too, am animal.
I, too, am socially constructed.

Bears are so sad in the summer,
so bored and hot as they pace:
pink tongues loll out of black rubber lips.

I donate to wildlife funds,
feed my own bears,
and throw food to those at the zoo.