you really like fish
and I can't even remember what year it is
most of the time
you like fish
I can never settle on the year
or; I mean
I can never get that last number right
and you like all non-white meat fish
mostly
lobster is seafood not fish
red when boiled
dyes my hand slick and red
buttery
I wipe them on my shirt
the dark figure in the dank archway by the dock
turn out yer pockets wallet
purse
stink of fish brown water machine
gunpowder oil
the slow moving clouds as the sun sets
a drifting thought
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