by John Dorroh
Let me see the speckled trout that dropped
into your lap. The lemon butter sauce splayed
out on your dress, two capers for eyes, swimming
up into the mysterious channel. Fish has to be prepared
just right, and most of the time it’s not. Professional
chefs tell us that it’s easy. It’s like driving to Bumfuck,
Florida. It’s easy only if you’ve done it.
Scaling fish and carving them into filets is messy
but less so if you know the basic steps. I did it with
Uncle Wheeler at his snake-infested pond on
McCrary Drive before they built the new strip mall
behind his house. He and Dad drank too much
rot gut –didn’t really want me to go – I could tell,
but kids have a way of making a point. They don’t
teach that skill in school.
The Alpha & Omega decal, you know, that perfectly
symmetrical fish outline, is lacquered on one out of 25
vehicles. Those who know how to catch a fish before
it swims into dangerous waters upstream, or out into
the open sea where almost anything can happen are the ones
that worry me the most. They are in a blind sort of love
with WWJD bracelets, and when I give them a quiz,
they usually fail miserably. Like question 1: Why do you speed?
Like Question 2: Fail to use your turn signal? Like Question 3:
Why do your curse like a sailor in front of your kids? and like
Question 4: How have you made the world a better place today?
I hand out razor blades so each of us can scrape the fish
off of the bumpers, scrape away the scales that cover our eyes.
This mess with fish – all the praying and scraping and scaling
and displaying – has seriously complicated the trip. Jesus made it
so easy: here’s my gift, take, eat; repent of your sins and be
on your way. Spread love not hate. This mess with fish should
be so easy to clean, but for me it takes weeks, months, even years
to deal just with the smell.
Whether John Dorroh taught any secondary science is still being discussed. However, he showed up every morning at 6:30 for a few decades with at least three lesson plans and a thermos of robust Colombian. His poetry has appeared in Dime Show Review, Red Fez, North Dakota Quarterly, Selcouth Station, Ospressan, Suisun Valley Review, Tuck, Piker Press, and several others. He also writes short fiction and the occasional rant.