The Bait Shop
The bait shop was
Green and worn with age.
The ancient wheelbarrow
Nestled beside it outside
Like a last, clinging friend.
The water below the pier
Was an odd sky brown,
And everyday was paper white.
The fresh and light wooden windows
Of the shop were ripped off
Either from a move or
God knows what…
No one ever used the one-dimensional bait shop
Other than to gaze at it. It is a relic of my grandfathers,
Made by Him,
And found by me like a madman
Wheedling away treasure from the chest
So I can sit here, and gaze at the
One-by-one foot bait shop,
Which hangs like everything else: Unfinished.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2009
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