False Casting

Fishes Eddie
mile marker 89
one white birch
and a two day old blood stain
beneath the soft shoulder sign.

The smell of the Beaverkill-
or was it the Delaware?
...competing for the spotlight
candidly groping
the cannonball in tight jeans
stepping off of the progressive
charter bus.

My mouth wide like a Kentucky strip mine
I false cast once
False cast twice.
Not even my best Royal Coachman
would entice that one.