Mr. Charlie

Mr. Charlie

Caught an eel

Off of the Hendrixon’s dock

At the bend in the river.

He was trying for catfish

But the eel must’ve 

Been hiding under a root

Or in the crevice of a rock

And got first dibs

On the chicken livers

Mr. Charlie

Dangled from 

A cheap used pole

He bought in the thrift section

Of the gas station

In town.

The eel was oily

With bottom-feeding slime

And lively

With consternation

Wrapping itself 

Around Mr. Charlie’s arm

Tightly.

He struggled to work the sucker off

Pressing down

At the back of it’s head

With his worn boot

To get the hook 

From the eel’s mouth.

He worked his pliers 

At the steel hook

Like a skilled surgeon

And held it up in the air

For inspection

After freeing it.

He made quick work

Of getting

The apode

Into the pail

Of river water

That sat next to him.

Mr. Charlie’s ‘Jaunt’ cologne was strong

In the afternoon heat

Overpowering the smell of eel slime

Chicken livers

And fish bones on the shore

As he wondered what the Mrs.

Was going to think

About having eel

For dinner that night.