The fish

(for a friend)

swimming in the selfish river
I cannot be more
than a drunk fish
looking for food
and someday feeding
the fisherman’s son

the water is a turbid lens
and my eyes were wrong

the sunshine
does not come
from the sun
it comes from
the shallow
river of hopes
inside of me

I threw up my best baits
but now I just cannot wait

for the silence
or forgiveness

and because of this gaping mouth
I will die as a drunk fish
anyway