Wing Dam

It’s the nicest day

Of the year

So far

And I have a nice

Buzz on

As I walk out

Upon the concrete

Abutment

Angled 

In crooked fashion

To the center of the rushing river.

The water is higher and faster

Since the thunderstorms

Made the valley

Their home

The last few days.

I walk past

A whole striper

Gurnied out

On the pebbled pavement

Cooking in the sun.

Only his eyes are missing.

Excerbated neatly.

The skin is dry.

His demise 

Was recent.

The sockets of his pupils

Still pink

And the body’s flesh

Firm

Neither bloated

Nor sunken.

There were no flies yet.

I lied down 

At the very end

Of the stone...

At the spine of the river.

I felt the same warm sun

As he once did

Baking my still intact eyes

Wondering

What the last thoughts

Of a wayward striper

Would be.

Knowing that he had 

Fucked up big time

Landing on the wing dam

Gasping his last breath.

The birds swooping down

Quickly

In those final moments

Being the last thing

He saw.

He really fucked up this time.

I fell into a solar-drenched stupor

The water at a summer high mark

Rushing around me

It’s fierce noise

Calming

The animal

Inside.