they bounced the pretty ones on their knees
but she was lanky
freckled
ratted hair
with bare feet
calloused and filthy
and she liked it that way
liked not to be noticed
alone in a world she made up as she went
hopping from rock to rock on the rugged shore
waves crashed and sprayed
sea water dries tight on your skin
she thinks
and jelly fish burn
and they reel in their nets in the distance
squeeze out the jelly fish with thick rubber gloves
sea water drying tight on the wooden decks
she reaches a sandy strip of beach
the sand, warm on her feet
slips between her toes
a old eagle eyes her from atop a piling
she smiles at him
and quickly looks away
whispers a greeting
(more of a hum)
she knows that to ignore him
is the best way to keep him close
the rhythmic moan of a Tender’s diesel engine draws near
it is time for them to pitch their fish
she climbs a piling to the top of a long ship dock
runs to the end for a better look
the hi-liners will pitch last
she thinks
they like to watch the others pitch
so they know how much they have beaten them
they will drift just out of line most of the morning
to gloat
she is pleased to see one of the old wooden boats
drifting alongside the usual decked out hi-liners this week
she sits at the end of the dock
and counts
they pitch in order of value
pinks first, followed by dogs
then silver or chum, depending on the season
but always the lovely Sockeye last
the prize of fish – even more than the King
rich, red, oily meat – perfect for smoking
the catch was not as good as last week’s
but good enough for them to be handing out
black cherry sodas and red licorice whips
and she won’t even have to sit on their knees to get some
Copyright 2007 by Deltina Hay
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