My Maine Man Poem by John W. McEwers

The cold tank
of lifting bubbles
rubber bands
and lobster slavery
beckons like
a wicked lover's
pity.

'You can have me...
...if you really want'
they say with antennae
outstretched
like reluctant welcome.

I swore I'd be a hero
just once.
Find redemption
in the eyes of
a pinchered, brown sea insect.

Money exchanged hands
and I could smell the adoration
rising from the brown paper bag
like steam
as I waddled to my car.

I was so pleased with myself
as I pulled away
the bag still on the roof of my Kia.

It was blocks before I realized my error with a hasty U-Turn.
Cruel fates! Stolen redemption!
Tire tracks, like grill marks, demonstrating lobster murder.

No hero, am I, who choked on tears the whole way home
to a dinner of shame
with a flat, microwaved friend.