Careful Thoughts And Getting Lost

I once fished off of an abandoned pier
when I was canoeing in Wisconsin.
The wooden pier was gray and missing planks.
On shore the pier connected to a field
but the house on the lot had been torn down.
I caught a nice three or four pound striped bass
on a plain white streamer I tied myself.
My dad and I ate the fish for dinner
with a stringer of bluegills that he caught
from the pier by the cabin we rented.
 

Some people think they can see the future.
They see a United States cracked in half.
I’ll be able to sail an open boat
to what’s left of the Gulf of Mexico
and tie up there to an abandoned pier—
I believe there will be abandoned piers—
and try my luck casting for my dinner.
I’ll keep careful notes of the fish I catch,
maybe even do a watercolor
of the scene if the light and mood are right.

I’m going to eat whatever I catch.
I have no idea what will happen
to the notebook I’ll keep careful notes in
or the notebook with watercolor sheets
that I’ll do watercolor sketches in.
I’m going to eat whatever I catch
but I think the internet will be gone
even before I start venturing south.
I’ll keep notebooks even if I can’t blog.
Some people think careful thoughts don’t get lost.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



Gordon Michael Scallion’s website


*


Princess From Atlantis Without A Band-Aid

Bluetits