Fishing on a Small Lake, Circa 1987
A dream discovered in fresh water waves Under the surface with billowing ochre weeds A deep, green curtain hiding the flutter of perch Perhaps, a tiny bluegill or larger pumpkinseed Safe under covers, hiding from the wolfish fish Predator and prey in endless dashes Never upsetting the murk I lay amidships over the side of the canoe staring for hours My father's strong arms casting and casting Nary a fish made it over its sheltering sides Glittering water on the belly in rivulets The bright orange sun beating from behind cumulus clouds On the shimmering surface of the shrinking lake. I shielded my eyes and kept watching for fish Taking a break to read my Hardy Boys book The Mummy Case , I think it was, its lurid cover as natural as the fish below on my young imagination My father handed me a bottle of Coke, cold in styrofoam wrap I remember that first drink, cold and tickling Traveling home in his red 1984 Ford F-150 I turned the last pages of my mystery book looking for answers