The Lady and the Marlin

he

I am become a great marlin;

I think the form suits me well.

For now the adventure doesn’t sit

forgotten on the top shelf of a pantry–

our pantry full of Pringles and canned corn–

and it bubbles in all the creases

of my fins. Only now when I swim,

I cry great marlin tears

because I can’t hear your songs

born of oyster pearls,

your bare feet erased in dust

as you sweep sand off our porch.

Love, it’s a price I must pay.

she

I am still here sweeping sand off our porch,

and I no longer sing my own songs but

shut my mouth and listen

to Bob Marley on the neighbors’ radio

while I gaze out to where the sea meets the sky.

How happy you must be,

away from my love and the canned corn.

How happy you must be,

chasing the sun until you’re dizzy.

I must stop the sweeping, I must sit down;

thoughts of you make me dizzy.

he

Aha! aha! the ocean tastes of freedom,

of restlessness finally satiated.

Marlin are the fastest fish,

and I swim laps around the world.

she

The sun is dying over our porch,

the beach is glowing amber,

there’s another hockey game on the television

and a cup of noodles in the microwave.

Yes, love is a boring thing, isn’t it?

he

I am swimming so fast that I couldn’t

look back at you.

I shouldn’t, you see.

Life is all about seizing every thrill,

taking it as it comes,

living for the moment.

she

Were we a moment?

he

I would not be so selfish to ask

you to become a marlin, too.

she

I let the waves caress my toes:

Will the sea, sweet love, carry you back to me?

Will the sea sweet love carry you back to me.

May 28, 2024