Bourbon Steelhead

tempered steelheads migrating through the shallows, their metallic scales lubricated with penzoil two stroke motor oil. moving over sand and rocks some gray, some brown, some smooth, some jagged and torn. with alloys glistening in the summer heat they brush up against the rivers stones to break off the fishermens disappointment. all those scarred gums whose fishhooked lines caused thier lead bellies to rust. in the muddy waters they stir, drink to much whiskey and sink to the river bars sandy bottom. their rigid frames drifting through the sediment, with heads lowered swaying slowly like submariner zeppelins, trying to navigate against the turbulent waters. now these mechanical nomadic sailors keep for themselves a tin compass in the sky filled with memories of home. but still they are mellow preachers rolling and tumbling in their hardened elements trying to find their way.