Fucking Sun Fish

Molidae is the family of the molas or ocean sunfishes

I let you catch me, you sullen bitch,
I’m half the fish I once was, wrinkled, tired,
resting on the bottom next to that old shoe and broken
bottles of pirate rum, whiskey and ipecac.

Call me Molidae little man, new tiny friend, my family
of molas are too big to fit in the family sedan so we
came to the shore on current by way of California like
everyone looking for riches, a better life; that one big

strike to leave it all behind and find true happiness
outside ourselves – the kind of happiness that comes from
flesh bereft of skin parasites and the hapless, pick-a-pocket
worms that make the life of the less fortunate a real

wretch and feckless romp. On ward expansion, farther west,
to the land of gold, to a world of rapture to capture a destiny
of mud and vertebrae evolved to a tail and guttural bump-

This is the American dream you rotten scum, you hoisted a tired
old fish to his death on shore. Be happy now you little angler,
you moldy sailor, you half pint in the rip tide of life. Bring on
your mallet, your gig and your pole to show me who is man.

I am the fucking Sun Fish whose body comes to and end too
soon, the missing vertebrae a testament to an evolution of the American dream.

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