Supermarket Attraction

He could not see how they got

the vortex to spin so fast along

the sides of the swimming pool

set-up in the parking lot. He was

on another round of errands

with his mother in an outfit that

didn’t fit—short sleeved plaid

shirt from the previous summer,

tube socks blown from his calves

and creeping into the heels

of his white dress shoes, the only

ones he could grab in her rush.

He felt awkward, self-conscious.

His brother’s old shorts were big

around the waist. Under the canvas

shelter, the children leaned over

the edge of the pool on a makeshift

boardwalk with little fishing poles

tied with a line and a hook.

Indiscernible trout teamed below,

and a man with yellow slacks

and a rose suit jacket was selling

worms. He knew what fishing was

from pictures of his father

and brother high in the Sierra.

You cast and reel-in line. You don’t

use worms. You cast and draw

them out with spinners and flies,

always with your father beside you,

And in the photo with you, modeling

your catch. He wanted to know how

they made the water move against

the curved sides of the pool

beneath him. He could barely see

the thin trout press the current.

To either side little girls and their

parents dipped their baits for easy

catches. He saw a photo stand,

a backdrop of a mountain lake,

and an extra charge. Kids vied

for a better place to stand around

the round sides of the pool, a grey

unbroken expressionist streak of fish

bodies staining the blue foam

in the circling current. Before he

knew it his mother came down

the boardwalk bringing him a rod

baited with a red worm loosely

threaded just past the barb. He

recoiled from the pool, his socks

crawling further into his shoes,

but he did what was expected.

The quick mysterious wave relieved

The hook of its worm before it reached

any fish. He stood a minute more,

followed the water with his eyes,

observed the unmoving shadow

of fish in the undercurrent ringing

the pool. He leaned the pole carefully

along the railing, then, pulling

at the waistband of his shorts,

quickly joined his mother,

already waiting in the car.