Up the street, trout.
Up the street, a lake was always
stocked through the summer.
I used to fillet the rainbows and add
butter to the pan. We lived well
before droughts dried the lakes low.
Trout up the street in a grocery
stocked with small bills for change.
We trusted the lake.
What we would do for all the bass
he tossed back. Only one rainbow
today, a curiosity in the sky.
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