Good Luck

It was just one of those

single odd moments in

a pack-rat-full garage night

of moments.

An old man in the homeless shelter

was describing in great joy

the sensation of gaffing

a seventy-three pound

king salmon,

back in the day, before

everything

else

got away

from him.

We all murmured

quiet admiration

for his grand achievement,

and then quietly thought

what might have brought him low.

And then

another patron

stood behind the Great Fisherman

and rubbed his buzzed-cut head

with great enthusiasm.

"For luck!" he proclaimed.

The room laughed.

"You got the wrong guy,"

the Great Fisherman exclaimed.

We laughed again. But we all felt the pain.