Chasing Fish

Chasing fish
Blue eyes of youth, followed the water .
Teenage images of women and curves, yet to come
his way.
Old blue jeans turned into flys by his own hand,
call to the Brookies hiding along stones
at the bottom of Thompson River.

Chasing fish
For wishes of chasing women and adventure,
like Errol Flynn, he wished to chase and to succeed.
Up to Alaska, he answers a call of nothing better to do.
Big fish needed innovation of young minds.
Three hooks fooled old men, so devising hooks of two,
he showed the old men what to do.
Grandfather beams with pride,
of stories, best left for old men up in Alaska.

Chasing fish
With rich men wearing money like spray on tans.
Spreading smiles as gregarious as Hollywood marquees
the Florida sun rewards wrinkles and tales,
for wives and women waiting in the gardens...sipping tea.
Or secrets
sitting inside minds of middle aged
men with money to spend.

Chasing fish
He travels alone, across lakes, on boats carrying dreams,
casting a line into serenity of places stored in thought.
His bait catches crappie and bass,
but his hooks
reel in...the feel of calloused hands cruising over,
women of curves and brown skin. To this place old minds travel alone,
to rivers, and days of distant homes...
long since gone.

Chasing fish
Is where he would have been.