The New Story

It is an old story that fishermen

never tell the truth.

The politician is just as bad. He justifies the moon.

But looking up at the moon, sometimes finds the sun

is worth more than handshakes.

Yesterday, the river suddenly cleared.

I took it as a sign to fish dry flies,

casting over the slower edges

which spilled back into the main current.

But slipping in the swift water,

I bobbed away, a stupid thing to do.

Here’s the new story: measure words

in inches, a scale for whether a man or fish

should be thrown back.