Best Placesfish Poems
Poached, steamed, broiled, boiled,
dried, fried in soups and saucers,
piled high, their eyes bright, silver bodies shimmer in the harsh light of the hall.
Fish and open mic night at Der Schnitzel.
Ten fish dishes
ten acts.
Comics, poets, a demure cello player, “a little person” (with a big heart) on harmonica,
a shy, chubby teen singing a familiar “Oh, Baby...Oh, Baby” tune, acappella, memorized
note by note by note, listening to a CD every day after pom-pom practice.
Fierce in its stilted taste and organized fun,
glorious in attempts to dazzle and entertain,
certain the crowd is buzzed and fuzzy
on the beer and polite, white wine.
We squirm and fidget, embarrassed for the people on the stage – a few feet above our heads
and so close to our table we see their silver fillings on the high notes.
There are holes in the older woman's hose when she sits on the stool to read her poem.
She has one, clear, drop of mucus on the tip of her nose.
Some of us can only focus on that precise, perfectly round secretion - so clear and
symmetrical
the unintentional lens magnifies the stage behind her.
We feel sorry for and made more uneasy
when she loses her place.
Her poem is about lost love.
When she finishes, she puts her head down and seems to sob.
Her shoulders hunch and her chest surges. The stage hand moves to her quickly to touch
her shoulder and say something in her ear.
The fish know nothing of this drama. They lie quietly in the pans and plates, oblivious to
all around them. They are better for it.
#
Walk to the Deli corner
Buy two bags of Wonder bread
Pass five sushi places on one block
Daydream about what Lundy Brothers was like before it closed
Cross the Avenue to the Bay
Watch the toddlers run to catch the seagulls
Hear women’s laughter by the railing.
Smell the raw fish sold by the water near
the fishing trip boats.
Say hello to the fish salesmen
Move slightly to the side as they yell, “Half Price!”
your ears ringing–
Try to feed the swans among the swarm of ducks and seagulls
Feed the seagulls too.
Laugh at how the ducks fight each other over crumbs in the air.
Stroll over the Bay Bridge
Pigeons at your feet
Children over the railing
Led down childhood memories of intertwined feet under Cappuccino’s glass table
Hairs sticking to chap stick
Spinning over water,
coat buttons open