It’s warm enough for the fishermen.
If they’re lucky the water is calm
enough between rains to fool the catfish.

What do we imagine then, it takes to fool the catfish?
The scent of rain, does it soak in down to them on the other side of the waterline?

Bridges and the Indiana shoreline on the other side of the waterline
occupied by watery versions of us. Are we dragged out of the dry like choking fish when we drowned?

Their fishermen hook Styrofoam and plastic bottles and dry-siders when we drown.
They tell stories of monsters that breathe without gills

imagine themselves pre-evolved without gills
look to the current above at the bottoms of boats the way we ponder the clouds.