Fisher’s Lament

by Angie Mansfield

As I sat there, soaking sunshine

Quietly enjoying springtime,

Listening to birdies chirping

With my pole upon the shore,

I spied my bobber dipping quickly,

Back up again, then down hardcore.

"Aha!" I said, tensing, ready,

Gripping tightly, hands held steady,

Waiting for the tell-tale pulling,

That would signal dinner sure.

I waited for as long as I could,

Gave a pull -- fish there no more!

Cursing gently, hooked a new worm,

Laughing as I watched him squirm,

Tossed him in the water warm,

Sat back again to wait once more.

Sunshine warming, eyes were drooping,

Soon I was gently snoozing, waiting as I was before.

A gentle tug jerked me alert,

Like a caffeine pill advert,

My eyes no beauty could divert

From my bobber dipping gaily,

Like a housewife churning butter

In those cliche'd days of yore.

This time I would get the big jerk,

Fry him up with a great smirk,

Or I swore I'd go berserk,

And never fish again without an oar

To beat the water in frustration

Now pay attention - don't get cocksure!

I held on, firmly forcing patience,

Picturing my coming vengeance

On the swimming fiend that I abhorred.

A nearby fisher offered guidance,

I turned to decline his unasked-for brilliance,

Felt a jerk, then fish's absence; called the "helper" a meddling...creep.

I stood there for a time, head aching

While my eye was quickly twitching,

As I tried to keep my temper from exploding like before.

Then I slowly brought up my pole,

Snapped it in two with a great pull,

And left to take up video games INDOORS.

Angie Mansfield, perhaps unsurprisingly, lives alone with her dog and a jade plant named Fred. Yes, her plant has a name. You can find more of her failed attempts at journalistic integrity at the Zebra Rag.