Eli Goldblatt

These fish she saw

In my dream a little girl looked down into the water
of a secluded pond late one night. No one from the village
had ever seen a fish larger than a minnow or tadpole
in this pond, but as the girl peered into the water
she saw a large spiny fish swimming along the banks.
The water seemed lit from within & she knew,
when other fish joined the first, that no one else
could see these fish she saw.

On Sunday afternoons in Golden Gate Park,
what was left of the hippies would gather on the hill to sun
themselves & listen to drummers jam. I'd sit alone on that
hill surrounded by laughing, jabbering people & feel
both a part of the town & a frightened observer of it:
gangs of women, men in love, long thin bodies chasing
frisbees & dogs. I understand some used heroin in those
days, but I didn't see it. I saw the throngs, heard
African drums, wanted to be loved for my ambitions.

 

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