fishing reminds me of you-
torn hat, vest, soggy old shoes, rod and spinner
I watch the curve of your strong calves
as you spring from rock to boulder upstream
standing in shallows, lying in wait for your prey

fishing makes you smell like the river-
of wet leaves and dirt
and I like it
dried salt on your neck tastes good
the warm curve of your arm around my back
you smell like home to me