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 between its shimmering pages

like a fluttering fish in the dream of the past

the smell and heft of the summer wind 

whipping through the window

A dream remembered in passing highway lines