He wears
a Puma tee-shirt
but if I close my eyes
and hug him
I smell smoke in weathered buckskin.
He drives
a truck for money
but when he nears the woods
and enters
he walks ancient virgin forests.
He buys
meat at the market
but when the white tails rut
and fatten
he packs gun and worships hunting.
He lives
in modern ages
but only bodily
for his soul
comes from other,
older eras.