I was going to write the cliché,

“In times like these.”

But there have been no times like these in my times.


In this time of unprecedented racial, economic, and environmental injustice,

Complicated by a divided country, a precarious election, and a deadly virus,

I wish I fished.

Not to catch fish,

But to put on my hip waders

And stand in a cold mountain stream

Letting the gurgle of the water

Carry me away.

Instead, I go to the grocery store

To refill an empty fridge.

Maybe in the next life,

If I get to choose,

I will be trout.