On The River Dordogne, 1986

You loved it then. You'd spend hours
catching minnows with nets thin as silk
stockings, watching them weave around

your legs like the currents. Your jam jars
were always quickly filled up but you
never let them go. You enjoyed taunting

them, parading in front of them like an eight
year old general. No. It was always my job
to let them go, like so many things in our lives.