One Fish, Two Fish

i'm fishing for my writer-self today.
that writer's block, it's got those shiny silver fish
darting in and out of the frothy swells,
the slicks of sunlight scattering over the water,
distracting me.

i'll think i've got a bite, reel it in frantically -
oh come on, come on, please -
only to have the wily piscine creature
slip itself off the hook deviously
while i was temporarily blinded by hope.

give me a break.

i am left spattered with cold droplets,
muttering to myself on that sunny, amiable fishing rock -
one fish
two fish
red fish
blue fish.
it's all i can say, again and again.

maybe a long time earlier, theodore geisel
sat on a similar fishing rock, young and squint-eyed
when tales of eccentric felines still swirled
in his future,
sat watching those silly little fish
slipping and flurrying past his eyes, between his
fingers, small streaks of shiny, scaly skin
breathing out round bubbles.
morse code,
waiting for the
decode.

and i'm still sitting here,
waiting
for
that
goddamn
decode.

--
credit for the 'one fish/two fish...' lines go of course to the theodore geisel, aka dr. seuss.
credit for poem comments go only to you. *hint, hint*
credit for lame jokes go to yours truly. ;p