Fishing on the jetties,
My old Penn, working the south side.
Squid for bait,
Loafing, dreaming, life is good.
Finally, a tug on my line,
Umm, strong fish,
Could be a red,
Feels like a red.
Must be a red.
That will be nice,
Hope he's legal.
The leader is showing,
Here comes my red.
Holy Mackerel Batman,
It's a hammerhead.
Maybe six, maybe eight pounds.
I start to haul him in,
He leads with his right,
Actually a swipe of his tail.
Now my cooler is in the bay.
Now he tries a right cross,
And connects,
With my tackle box.
Luckily it sticks in between,
The concrete blocks.
I pull out my Gerber,
And cut the leader.
See ya pal.
Too damned much trouble.
And he was a baby.
I wonder where mama is at.
(7/21/11-Alton Texas)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem