(Hanalei pier, Hanalei, Kauai)

He stands like an old hand
at this, the slender whip of a rod
extended off the end of the pier,

a couple of weights keeping
the line taut, and, as we watch,
this 10-year-old from Utah

catches fish after fish. Small
fry flagtails shimmer silvery
when he holds up one wiggler.

When I ask what he plans
to do with fish Hawaiians
call aholehole, he produces

a longer line, a bigger hook:
String ’em together and
Catch a bigger fish!

Ah, they’re bait then,
I venture, and he grins.
Yeah!

I feel sorry for the deaths
of so many aholehole
until I read later that locals

catch and fry them whole
in hot oil with salt, pepper
and garlic, and I want

to race back to the pier
and report this to the young
fisherman from Utah.

I’m sure he’s gone by now,
as is my older fisherman
who vanished long ago.

But I saw a bit of him today
in the boy with his silvery haul
gleaming in an orange

plastic bucket, delighted
in the catching, deftly
removing the barb

in each mouth. And I
hear my fisherman who
happily fried up many

a fish whisper, Good eatin’
there, Toots, as the fishing
boy rebaits his line

and drops it into a
glistening turquoise
sea.

•••

aholehole (ah-hole-ay-hole-ay): the Hawaiian name for flagtail fish