The twenty seventh memory

Off the weir where the water runs fast and the danger is near to the surface,
watching as fish out of water choke for a chance to get further upstream and
I envied their trials

sometimes I swim to the island and lay looking up at the blue sky, being warmed by the June sun until dry
and at other times I drift out to sea.

‘jump off the aqueduct and you’re fucked’
that’s what they told me, but I jumped off it
anyway.

Salmon we lads poached to cook over the coals
and all of them goals that we set
which was like walking on water and not
getting wet,
but we thought we were Jesus
back then.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.