Gone Fishing

The dog wakes me early, too early, his boredom eats my restiveness.

Buttercup and Forget Me Nots

The morning is glorious sparkling sunshine, but somehow it grumbles and grouches and complains making me feel stupid and clumsy and inadequate, I beat it back like a pack of gnats, swarming but not biting.  I cast my pole again and again, a nibble, a nibble, and then a bite.  I pull it up and yes it is too small, I will never be good enough in this brilliant sunlight.  I reflect on how I am filled with doubt, and when I am like this it is on every front.  I don’t want to be this way.

Early Morning Fishing

Pumpkin Seed Fish

Water Lilies

Fiddle head ferns tall and curling up, and skunk cabbage emanating its very name sake as I crush it leaves into the swamp grass.  My legs are cut and the burdock clings, I untangle my line again and again in the broken trees.  The last cast, truly the last, use up this worm and it snaps my line.  Ironic, or not, I do not know.

Fiddlehead Fern

Skunk Cabbage

I feel this lonely feeling as though I never left those days in Rochester, with the cat meowing in the window as I parallel parked my car in tight spots where the bar goers had left.  I yearned so much for not being lonely.  I have come full circle.  Even when I am not alone there is this feeling of being bereft.  Cast adrift.  Left to my own devices.  I have to learn to embrace it.  I bury my face under the down comforter smothering in the heat.

There it is, this deep melancholy that I carry like a heavy sack, my back is permanently bent with it.  Why does it sneak up on my today?  I ask for meaning and I get it like a shove, it pushes me away, it rejects my affection, my love, my desire, and it smacks me hard, leaving me bruised.  I mull over it, for an hour, it goes on two and then suddenly I am taken, I get up to leave but it beats me out the door like a broom on a stray dogs ass.  Get lost.  It asks if I want to return, how can I utter the words no.  Because you make me feel crushed.  You make me feel empty and alone.  How can I say, only if you promise to stop to take a vacation from your constant berating.  You do not want me.  It’s clear.  Why ask what I want?

I cry, not for long, but that feeling in my stomach isn’t all that good.


2 comments on “Gone Fishing

  1. when I fish I might catch something and I might not, but if you are with the one that you love it is always fun. Fish dont cry neither should you!!!! love you cuz

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