The moose

by Cristina Taliento 

I saw a moose.
What it was an allegory for
I couldn’t say, no;
it was simply there
in the middle of the road
looking at me with calm eyes.

The bartender lingered in the 

doorway, smoking

and wondering what that moose
wanted from me.

I waited
at the crosswalk
thinking of answers
to silent questions.