through the fish-eyed lens

nearly, a fishhook bump and it slides away into the dark green water. the flick of your wrist too slow. pull in the empty line.


pull long, the pullapart pieces. pile them, so it half counts. so you can see the picture of what you're missing.


do something you tried. to do something.


try, like chipotle. like the smoke-tingle burn of its scent in your nose and how come everyone loves it but you? you taste weird, maybe. taste different.

different words. you lose like a slimy fish from the wrong hands into the grass. like the long cast of a clear line as it winds the slow circle around and around the wire overhead you weren't watching.  the way everyone else communicates.


feel the snap after desperate tugging.


you won't get back that lure.