STREET KIDS

By John Grey

They fish the dirty river.

I don’t know if they catch anything

or whether they eat the toxic fish

if one happens to bite down on their hook.

I see them casting their lines into the murk,

where factory slop meets snow melt 

on that slow crawl to the bay.

The smell doesn’t bother them.

Nor do the broken bottles, used needles,

that litter the bank.

A nearby sign warns “No fishing.”

But then again, every sign 

says “no” to something.

Copyright© 2021 by John Grey

Leave a Reply

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