The fisherman on the pier
extended his phone and
the shattered screen
shimmered nonetheless
with forty inch stripers.

Wow, that’s some catch
any luck today? I asked.
No I just started, the tide,
the tide is going out, he said.
It’s best with the tide out.

He wore a torn t-shirt and
grimy jeans but spoke to me
in my business casual outfit
as if I were a lost brother.
But how could I even begin

To think of those brothers.
Now, mutually forgotten,
though for a long time I looked
up to them for that which I
found within, the great catch.

Poet’s Notes:
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