Smoked Trout

The clerk says
Smoked trout
Is the best thing in the store,
So I buy eight cans and
Bring them home.
I'm scolded for my extravagance:
Whoever heard of smoked trout?
I say, The guy at the store seemed very high on them.
She says, I sent you there to get vodka.
I'm not sure how to reply other than a lie:
They were out.
She says, You can't drink smoked trout.
I want to yell, but I keep my anger in check by saying,
It's supposed to be amazing.
She looks at me like I'm the biggest
Mistake in her life.
I asked you for
One thing.
When she leaves, I turn on the television
And open a can,
Draining the oil from the shallow rectangle.
I sit in the dark with a small fork and
Eat the fish.
It does taste good,
I change the channels and imagine being alone forever,
Not answering to anyone,
Doing nothing for the rest of my life
Than eat smoked trout in frightful solitude.

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo by Trader Joe's

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