bass

The bassist caresses his instrument along her slender, 

gorgeous wooden neck,

a curve that fades into the swarthy fingerboard 

where he holds her.

She sings sweetly with every step she takes,

letting him lead in this swaying dance, 

intoxicated by the violin’s music.

The cello is envious;

she breathes wistfully, 

confined to this stationery place.

She overpowers, 

her strokes are resolute,

but the bass has a natural way of striking

the eye

and the ear.  

The bassist closes his eyes, 

and his grandiose lady lover feels his heart

beat against her mahogany torso, 

feels his heart ache for her, 

for her song.

They are one, 

dancers who harmonize on the stage, 

steal the spotlight,

and make everyone overwrought 

with envy.

I went fishing one day and caught a giant fish. It was a bass, and it was really hard to reel in. So I got the net and my dad scooped it up and we put it in a bucket.

We kept fishing. Then my dad caught a big fish, too. It was a carp. That thing must have been a hundred pounds! It was huge. We put that one in the bucket.

Then I caught a catfish. Wow! that thing was 200 pounds. So we kept fishing all day long. That was the best day of fishing ever.