On a Line

“Are you a fisherman?”

I thought I saw you

standing there, waiting, rod in hand

“Is that your line?”

Bait attached, drifting...
out to sea,

just barely

below

the surface.

“Are you hungry?”

Or do you play for sport?

“I could have swore

I heard you say…”

Are you casting for a prize?

One you can savor?

Or a complete stage play?

I can almost hear your laughter,

as they grace the underside

of that dock you’re standing on.

Maybe they are under fed,

suicidal or just naive.

Waiting for the next call,

the chance to audition

as the worm sinks to the bottom...

“Ah yes, I remember now…”

I’ve been here before

“A little scar, right here

on my lip,

See?”