Plenty of Fish

The irony escaped him
like the trout that we were hunting
but I was mortified enough for two
as we fished the lake at Bear Mountain
and the newlyweds appeared
for their sunset photo shoot
the wedding cake just barely
in their bellies.

"We're in the shot, Dad.
We should move over."
He pretends not to hear me
but I slide to the left
still reeling in my lure
while searching for the cameras
filming my reaction.
It seems a well played joke
custom tailored for a bachelor
brazenly sanguine and stubbornly hopeful
for what isn't, but should be.

"Good. Now don't look at each other,"
the photographer demands
from the perfect, snow globe couple.
Her hands cling to his cummerbund.
I throw the hook again.

"It's getting dark," my father says.
"You ready?"

My eyes are catching diamonds
and flecks of polished gold
from their corners
when I answer
a question never asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

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