phragmities

We are fishing, even though it is too windy to fish

I don’t care and I never have:

it’s not about catching the fish, but about being

out in the world, remembering the

breath of wind, fresh air

I am surrounded by invasive species

and the remnants of fishing: line, hook, worm can.

I sit in a dusty camp chair

with a hook full of bread

aimlessly drifting.

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