All along the wooden pier,
benches sit immobile,
beckoning visitors to rest.
Words etched on brass plates
for all to see:
“In Loving Memory of My Parents”
“For My Dearest Aunt Laura”
“In Memory of a Great Fisherman”
One imagines the benches might
mark the places at which each
memorialized person spent time
casting hooked lines
into the gulf’s waters
while drinking cold Budweiser
to better pass the time
between sunrise and sunset.
Now, lovers claim the benches
wrapped in embraces, scarcely
noticing the memorial plaques
on the creaky, weathered slats.
Fishing for affection
in the early evening hours
catching no fish,
but not caring.
Praying for Eyebrowz 