I caught a pacific blue marlin once,  
         it was so big 
         we couldn’t even get it in the boat. 
 
     Early morning, we get a late start,
but the low sun is also rising.
We are heading to the far south,
leaving from Honokōhau harbor
for a long downhill run to Milolii.
 
we notice from the chatter
      on the radio, this is a tournament 
weekend. Our boat is not entered 
but it is fun hearing all the hookup
calls, eating Vienna sausages
and laughing at the, Zero/Zero/Zero      
responses flying back and forth.
     on the radio. 
But then the rigger band snaps hard.
     BANG! One of the big gold twelves
 
     begins to howl, screaming out thick line
     through the stainless wheels in the eyes 
     on the thick, gleaming red and white rod.
 
While we scramble to get the other lines 
in, the captain smashes the throttle with
one hand, holds the wheel with the other
and presses the button down on the mic 
with the third, laughing and yelling, over
and over, and, still laughing. HooOOK—UUP!
 
Getting the other lines in is a real chore
and every pole that goes to the cabin 
rests on it’s own padded teak shelf. 
By the time we look, the last rod left 
in a holder is bowed like a palm tree 
in a storm and the reel is near empty.
My fish! My turn in the chair, this is—
                                                          my…….fish. 
  
       
  
  
* Editor: Jules Unsel