A Poem About Mass Transit For Salmon Which Also Happens To Be A Big Fish Gun
|Aug 14 at 12:58 pm||Public post|| 4|
Traveling anywhere can be a misery
when you’re a waterbound salmon
Cause railcars and airplanes, velocipedes, motorbikes;
none of these make up the canon
Of possible ways for your family and friends
to conduct horizonal expansion
Just rivers, upstream, can your next of kin teem,
through a limited excerpt of canyons
Imagine what’d happen if the river went dry;
it’d be nothing short of a famine.
To be born a fish, would be nobody’s wish,
a poor choice you might reëxamine
Good thing scientists, with their infinite gifts,
have produced a new lift of compassion:
Stuck downstream? Don’t fear. They’ll pick up your rear,
and fire you, dear, from a cannon.
And tubeward you’ll soar, some minutes and more,
Some suction and noise your companion
Till, at hose’s end, up and over again,
You’ll flip — I know I did — and then some.
It used to be woeful to be born a fish;
Of traveling choices, you had none.
Those days are now done, fishers finally have guns,
More than ever, fish, there’s nowhere you can run.
This is the week the fish tube went viral.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this poem about the fish tube.
Please tell every fisherman you know about this poem. Thanks for reading it.
This is Phil.