poem

 Au SableThe summer before residency started in ChicagoI went north to Grayling, Michigan with a backpackAnd the last of a dreamy eyed sociopathic certaintyTo spend a weekend fly fishing on the edgesOf the swift black flat Au Sable river.I thought I had it all won,I ’d played some cards wellParlayed a little luck into a tidy stack That bought me access to higher stakes tables. I was ready to roll the dice and gamble.But first, before sitting down with the high rollersIt was off to the swift black Au Sable river In the summer before the illusions fractured,Before I realized everything I hadBarely covered the opening ante,Before my cocky smirk got stuckUnder the tracks of the red line L,Before getting swept away by big city currents,Broken down by sleepless midnightsIn the old Cook County Hospital Turkish prison call room,Before the work of my life beganI sought one mystical experience in natureSo I bought a cheap fly rod and some tackleWith the last of the loan moneyPracticed how to castIn an old ballfield behind the rental in ToledoTossed a tent and a sleeping bag in the trunkAnd drove straight north on route 23; A knock off 21st century version of Nick Adams,The one who hadn ’t been broken by war,Who didn ’t know the first thing about fly fishing—Big two hearted phonyUp in Michigan I stopped at a tackle shopBought maps and a couple saran wrapped sandwichesTook an hour to find the campground Close to the river and chanced itBy not pa...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - Category: Surgery Authors: Source Type: blogs