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4/29/15 catfish poem #1

 

Swimming below

brightly colored boats

with criss-cross (the paddles)

people stare at each other, unaware

of another, thing much more shocking.

There are catfish in the bay. Larger than

boats are they; with bright silver scales

dancing in the swells, like gypsy women

– laugh when you see ’em, twirling on

their fins.  Oh the dance!  The parade!

(sitting in the shade is a funny little

man) “Have you seen it?” “Yes!” says I, much like

politicians: heads with hats, sleek and fat, walking down

main street, looking cool like up-street, and they smile with smiles

wide and beguiling.  Hey! Look over there – Running for

MAYOR! Would you vote for a catfish, looking

like a sweet dish? In a velvet suit – classy

just a little bit trashy, smoking cigars

Man! He’ll be a star! “50 bucks a

pound!” Hella good deal –

but the catfish reel.

Back to the water! Catfish

are real smartar, but not with tartar.

Jump in the bay – fin display, as paddles

criss-cross brightly colored boats all in row

catfish show shiny silver scales swimming below.