CPR to a dead fish

Dead fish swim

near my feet,

two people make out

far away,

a lifeguard blows a whistle

over seagulls who avoid the

dead fish and sweet couple

and lifeguard

and poop onto me

just I was going to perform

CPR on the fish

to save it from

drowning

though I suppose oxygen is the

least of the fishes’ problems

just like the poo

is the least of mine –

it is another way

to waste the day

while I waste away

another day

*

I’m hungry

and though I’ve shredded

my life away as a fisherman

with a penchant of being able to smell water

and the oncoming rain

I can’t catch any fish

though I have found a lake

which might be dead

though I can’t be sure

and anyways

a fisherman must always fish

so I cast my line

catch onto something

and it drags me under

but I keep pulling and pulling

showing my life to it

and that a fisherman is not a man’s fish

using all the tricks that

you can teach but not give

like the weave and bob

and tackle the tackle

and being with the current not against it

like the fish itself

that takes the route of minimum resistance

though I don’t

for I am a fisherman not a fish

and I pull harder

water breathing into my lungs

showing me that I am a fisherman not a fish

and I lose my rod

and the fish becomes a fisher’s fish

and I become just a man

and I raise my head above the lake’s surface

and I barely notice that

rain rumbles

because I am filled

with water

and still entirely

empty