Gone Fishin’
There was a lot of light.
He would never be able to tell anyone and he would never be able to forget it.
He paused, remembering the early morning quiet of the street.
He turned and looked, too, saw no one.
It was like a dance, a crazy kind of dance.
He couldn’t picture it in his mind.
A mouse ran across the kitchen floor.
The Last Chance. The Last Chance.
Because once again he felt as though he could conquer the world.
Shhh! Don’t tell anybody, friend, but – I’m in love.
Gone Fishin’
You’re drunk now.
What kind of answer is that?
Have you ever been in love?
Saturday? Here? Is that all right?
When will I see you again?
And strangely enough, he found it delightful.
Remembering the old loves, the old hates, for the last hundred years.
Pain in it, regret in it, a wail in it.
The same song about lost loves and old hates.
Why I suppose it’s a kind of admonishment.
Why did he write it?
What does it mean?
Don’t try to figure it out.
He felt a curious kind of anger.
Gone Fishin’
But you came back here, anyway?
I wasn’t going to walk through that fog, alone.
It didn’t make sense.
I knew that you were trying to make me go away from you.
Gone Fishin’
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