I miss those long days
and nights out in the pass.
We'd chum for hours,
drop our stainless leaders,
huge hooks baited
with oily mackeral.

Polishing off  
ice-cold Miller's
by the case,
telling ridiculous stories,
lying to each other's faces
about our love lives.

It was the definite high life,
no significant others.
just our mothers,
who didn't pay our bills.

Oh, I loved
catching
those killer fish
we'd through back
& whistling tunes
out under the stars,
out in the pass.