In Poetry on November 1, 2011 at 3:33 am


The streets fill with lovely women
the way streams grow crowded
with trout and salmon.

Didn’t I once have the swagger
of a Hemingway in the Gulf?
The rising tides no longer
lift my boat.

I’m a mere visitor in these waters.
A slow moving tourist. An ogler.

Is my round face as charming
as a seal’s? Maybe, but
I have the thick body of a manatee.

Desire. It sleeps more and more
like an aging cat. Still,
there’s something to be said for
gazing through a boat’s glass bottom,

a voyeur into another world. How ridiculous,
I ask myself, would I look.

to plunge in again?


Bob Bradshaw lives in California, a state that is drifting slowly towards Asia. Bob is inching towards retirement. It is unclear who will reach their destination first. Bob’s poetry has appeared in Pedestal, Stirring, Eclectica, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal and many other publications.



Post your Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: