for Reid Prichett, who shared his dream

When I was a kid, I wanted to be the world’s greatest fisherman.  Leave behind the dazzle of the modern world and row out to the middle of still water, hold a worm between my fingers, the ends of its body coiling around my thumb as I load it onto a barbed hook.  Cast the line long, the plunk barely makes a splash.

Wait.
Wait.
Breathe.
Sense the tap on the line.  
Reel.  
Tug.  
Reel.  
Tug.  

Pull the fish into my net, and yank it out of the water.  Estimate its weight--impressive. Hold the firm flesh wriggling in my grip.  Watch it struggle, the eye rotating in the socket. Count the seconds between the pulse of the gills.  Know that I am the world’s greatest fisherman.

Instead, I became a teacher.

exhale. . .
shifting beads
on the abacus