Others of these boats are not on the river fishing for fish.
These other boats out on the river are just out on the river being just boats.
There are people in this world who like to ride up and down on the river on their boats.
These people like the river just because the river is a river.
It doesn’t matter to people like this that there are fish living in the river.
These people who like to ride up and down on the river in their boats, most of these folks don’t know about Bob.
To these people, Bob is just another fishing man, Bob is just another fishing boat fishing on the river.
These folks don’t know the Bob that we know.
Did you know this about the river?
There are places on this river, on days like today, when you can walk across the river jumping from boat to boat.
This kind of a river is, in Bob’s eyes, a river not worth pissing his piss in.
This is my river, Bob sometimes wanted to yell this out to these boats.
Go find yourselves some other river to fish or not to fish.
On days like this, Bob would sit in his boat and Bob would wish they would all just go away.
By Sunday night, Bob’s wish, it would be answered.
These other boats bogging up Bob’s river would all go back to where they came.
And the river, that river that Bob loved best, the river with Bob’s boat fishing on it, like a good dog, this river, as day turned to night, this river would come right back.
Every boat on this river that knows about this river knows who I am speaking about when I ask about Bob.
There is only one Bob on this river.
There is only one boat on this river that is the boat that is Bob’s.
There is only one boat on this river that is the boat that is Bob.
Bob is what makes Bob’s boat what Bob’s boat is.
I’ve seen other boats that look like Bob’s, but I haven’t seen the boat that is Bob.
You know Bob? I say.
I say, I’m looking for Bob, I say.
Nope, nope, we haven’t seen him, they say.
We saw him head out on the river last week, say a few others.
We used to see him out here on his boat every day, say some others still.
Check the lake, they say.
They look out past the lighthouse.
They look out towards the lake.
They say, That’s where the big fish are.
Where the big fish are, they tell me, that’s where Bob might have gone out fishing.
Yes, I say, I know, but the lake is big.
Looking for Bob out on the lake would be like Bob looking for the fish that Bob has been looking for.
These folks nod their boat-bobbing heads, yes, that’s true.
We don’t know what else to say.
The moon at night goes from halfway to whole.
It gets a little bit darker every day.
In the mornings, the sun rises.
At night, the sun sets.
But Bob is still gone.
Gone where is what I want to know.
Gone fishing is all I know.
So go fish, I tell myself.
Go fish, Bob.
Go fish Bob, Bobber.
It is the river that tells me this.
Bob is a fish, it whispers.
Bob is a fish.
When you fish for fish, you do not see the fish you are fishing for until you fish the fish up and out of the river.
But still, even though you cannot see the fish, you know that the fish are there.
You believe this.
Somewhere.
In the river.
Under the river.
The fish are there.
A fish is near.
So I believe.
I believe that Bob is here.
Bob is there.
Somewhere.
On the river.
In a boat.
There lives a man.
There fishes a man.
Bob.
Even though I do not see Bob.
I know that Bob is here.
I keep on fishing.
Go fish.
To fish.
To fish the fish that is more than a fish.
We fish.
We are fishing.
We fished.
We kept on fishing.
We fished until there was nothing left to fish.
Once upon a time there was a river.
Once upon a time there was a fish.
Once upon a time there lived a man.
Once upon a time there lived a fish.
The man who lights the lighthouse light tells me that he dreamt a dream last night about Bob.
What was the dream about? I ask.
In my dream, the lighthouse man says, Bob was a fish.
Bob was walking across the water.
He was heading out towards the lake.
So I go out onto the lake.
I don’t stop until I cross into the waters of Ohio.
When I cross into the waters of Ohio, I come across two boys fishing a river called the Maumee.
I ask these two boys if they happened to come across a man who looked like he might be named Bob.
They ask me have I checked the mud.
The mud? I say.
I say, What would a man named Bob be doing there?
The mud, one boy says, is where the river ends.
Mud, the other boy says, is where something other than water begins.
I nod my head.
Then I give these two boys a look.
These two boys look like boys but what they are, I can see, is they are more than just boys.
These boys, they are brothers.
There is, I know, a difference.
I take back that look.
I turn back towards the lake.
Good luck, the one brother says.
Then the other brother spits.
He spits into the river.
He spits into the river for luck.
I’ll take whatever good luck I can get.
The lake is big.
On the lake, after Ohio, comes New York.
Below New York, on the lake, is Pennsylvania.
Bob could be anywhere or he could be nowhere in between.
I go in my boat back to where my looking for Bob began.
I head back to where Bob is a man who lives in a boat on a river.
On a river, in a boat, fished a man.
Call us Bob.
It rains.
It rained.
It is raining.
Rain, and then more rain.
When it rains, it rains a river.
In the rain, the river becomes more than a river.
The river, in the rain, becomes a lake.
In the rain, on the lake, it is hard for me to see.
In the sky there is a star that sailors use to find which way is north.
I don’t know which star is which.
I do not know which way is north or which way is south.
I get lost.
I end up running out of gas.
I drift until night turns to day.
There are more stars than there are heartbeats.
I tell myself, This is what heaven must be like.
I don’t know why I think this but I do.
That night, in the rain, with my boat drifting on an easterly drift, I drift off to sleep.
I dream about Bob.
In this dream, Bob pulls up to my boat in his boat.
Bob tells me to come aboard.
I do as Bob says.
When I come aboard Bob’s boat, Bob’s boat, it starts to sink.
We are up to our knees sinking.
Bob, I say to Bob.
Abandon ship.
I do as I say.
I swim over to where my boat is.
My boat, it is a boat that is not sinking.
I climb up into my boat.
Over here, I say to Bob.