we bring a bottle of bubbly
berry wine down under a bridge
to do some fishing
no glasses, like either of us
would have long-stem, anyway,
so you crack it open and we
pass it back and forth
i take a long swig from
where your mouth was on
the lip of the bottle, and the
scrabbling of claws along my
nerves goes quiet
perched on a rock, i watch as
you are braver than me, confidently stepping
out onto farther rocks,
think of that one summer when suddenly
you were up to your waist in lake water
to untangle your line from sunken branches
and i think about you a lot,
sometimes blushing into my cups,
but most of the time not,
yet still unable to say anything aloud
you dredged the river bed and brought
me in my little water-logged dinghy
back to shore, and i’m certain i’ll
eventually find the right words to
thank you
but for now, take this bottle of
fruity wine, and the image i have of you,
driving us to go fishing, where you’ll
cast the line for me, and the way
you look in the sunlight makes me
believe in second chances