Storytellers: A Poem by Charles Springer

Photo by Rob Wicks on Unsplash


Hake's my best friend. I do whatever he asks so when he asks me to get out of the way, I'm a little dumbfounded yet I follow through given the urgency of his request. I figure on drowning, no blood or guts to mop up, no bucket, and not entirely unpleasant for me so I've heard and just as I am about to sink past my nose holes, Hake yells to me there in the brine, no way man, no way as he grabs me by the neck and hugs me, then tries mouth to mouth and pumps repeatedly on my chest until my toes do that curling thing they always do when we're making up, not like lovers but storytellers looking for some new angle, new ending.

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