plenty of fish

There are plenty of fish in the sea, but there are also miles of line to cut or to break – leaving mouths pierced with hooks, from one point of view, and losing tonight’s dinner, from the other. Love leaves us injured or it leaves us hungry for more.  In this scenario: a catch is the best we could hope for. But what is a catch, but to bring a fish aboard, trying to swim, but left flopping on the floor?  Removed from oxygen – once useful gills turned useless.  The fisherman’s successful, but the fish here loses. Scaled. Boned. Eaten up for dinner. Dressed in a lemon butter sauce. What a pretty picture. He’s fed for tonight, by tomorrow: back at sea.  Teach a man to fish. Teach a woman to please.

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