on the river

the river runs through town
and though it has changed
being near brings the
comfort of the familiar

no more the line of wooden fish houses
Heymann's, Kishman's and Zimmerman's
where full and weathered boats docked
to empty the catch from their nets
pack the fish in ice in wooden crates
then truck it off to market
or you could buy some right on the spot

no one knew they were leaving a memory
like a stain
that a local kid would carry away
into the future

to write it down revives their voices and laughter
fishy smells and tar-stained foul weather gear
the heavy crates and ice on dirty boards
that i can see and hear with my eyes closed

restaurants are made now that are imitations
to scenically characterize what we lived
right here
in our town on the river