John W. McEwers
My Maine Man - Poem by John W. McEwers
The cold tank
of lifting bubbles
and lobster slavery
a wicked lover's
'You can have me...
...if you really want'
they say with antennae
like reluctant welcome.
I swore I'd be a hero
in the eyes of
a pinchered, brown sea insect.
Money exchanged hands
and I could smell the adoration
rising from the brown paper bag
as I waddled to my car.
I was so pleased with myself
as I pulled away
the bag still on the roof of my Kia.
It was blocks before I realized my error with a hasty U-Turn.
Cruel fates! Stolen redemption!
Tire tracks, like grill marks, demonstrating lobster murder.
No hero, am I, who choked on tears the whole way home
to a dinner of shame
with a flat, microwaved friend.
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