Electric EDGE
Web Edition of The Ragged Edge
May/June 1997
Electric Edge

Blank space Pole Fishing
    Muggy evenings I drive
    here, park the customized
    van, roll myself slowly
    dockside. If I shift
    my heart off a kickstand,
    a drizzly breeze massages
    my temples, a Kawasaki
    1200 wedges my thighs.
    I'm zipping by sorghum
    fields smelling sweet,
    hammer lane open. Amber
    caution light blinking
    is useless. A Peterbilt
    lugging a load of pulp
    pine shuffles across.
    Twin to a crash dummy,
    my helmet a windblown
    head of red hair, I'm
    replaying CCR's "Who'll
    Stop The Rain" before
    sliding beneath deck
    a second split by what
    the Hell is this. It
    matters so little now,
    what really happened.
    Whipping a Zebco, I
    cast to the deep pool,
    wheelchair arms held
    tight like handlebars.

-- Edward C. Lynskey

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