wisps of sand on the redwood deck,

small waves break steadily,

guests feel the spray.

Conversation flows:

books to read

kids at camp

tennis scores.

 

Maria serves:

penne with pesto

lobster salad

home- made bread

French Rose, not too sweet.

Hibiscus flowers float

 

Inside crystal pitchers.

Fresh bass, grilled with

parsley, lemon and thyme

brings to mind fish heads

and bloody innards

 

my grandfather tied

and dropped to muddy bottom

for bay crabs to cling,

too dumb and hungry,

to feel the string

 

lifting to the boat.

One ran loose.

The space was tight

so I squealed.

 

Wouldn’t you?

From our weathered porch

you could smell salt air

and twice-a-day trucks

spraying bugs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the bucket, the

creatures clawed over

sleek blue backs,

soon boiled orange/brown

brought to the table with

corn, slaw and beer

 

the fish heads used for stew.