Parable on Fish & Fire
It is said that love is a slippery fish, fire
an enduring flame & no matter how you cast
your rod, contemplative at water's edge
or in waders in the wandering creek,
it'll bite & burn when it's good & ready.
My friends, those sage girls, assure
the man for me is struggling upstream.
The wives tell: to find it, stop your hunt,
cast down your rod, pull in the lure,
make an appealing fire at edge.
No one says go home, clean house,
wash sheets, iron out your wrinkled ass
sweaters. It's that everyone believes
fish stupid & fire such a beautiful,
durable thing.
But fish chomp when hungry
& then again, chomp when not.
& love, no matter how I mucky
the banks or memorize the terrain,
love is a slippery scrod: no matter
how simple, not so silly as to vault
into some outstrectched bucket,
nor so stupid as to hop
into such a fickle-ass flame.
