Collaboratively Written By: Tracy Shults-Wright, Prunella Nadler, Jennine Pike & Lee Todd Lacks
The fish were not ready to be caught Caught in that spot- they were not ready They were not! Not ready to be dinner Next to the fries Still wanting to swim Beneath blue skies Skies that in the winter, would dump upon them their sadness, Sadness that sinks deeper into the blackness Blackness I can't see through as they slip out of my grasp grasp now if you will, the gravity of that which I speak to you here here on this nondescript fishing pier where we exchange our most intimate secrets secrets hidden from any with eyes because we never catch fish here What a surprise! Surprize me with the many ways you seem to do the things you do. Do you like to tease when your dress billows in the breeze as I sit and ponder how far my hand should wander? wander with me and your tackle yet again to our special spot, The spot where you and I have been for all the trouble we're gettin' in in the sunshine, in the rain -When we’re off a fishin’ we’re not circling the drain. drain the hurt that dwells within as you keep me still and calm tell me where should I begin when you press against my palm palm the fishes! My dear it’s you they’ve been requesting... Requesting me for what, dare I ask? For what am I taking them to task? to task? Dare you ask? They are most uncooperative, thumbing their fishy noses! Noses against the wall in that ancient haunted hall where the two of us conspire to set the fishes' tails on fire firing up the fishes, to make their cold blood then burn burn their pale flesh with a broad cedar plank when they stick out their tails, they're ready to spank
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