He casts his line where headlights used to sweep
The screen stays white while projectors sleep
His tackle box rests on a rusted seat
The concession stand admits defeat
Silver hooks catch fragments of the show
Neon carp swim in a pixel glow
He reels in scenes that no one else will know
The projector dies where the water flows
His worn boots sink in gravel where tires rolled
The speaker poles stand bent and cracked and cold
A bobber dances on the flooded lot
Where Chevy fins and chrome have been forgot
He guts his catch beneath the ticket booth
Removes the hook with practiced steady tooth
The film canisters leak in muddy piles
While dragonflies perform their aerial miles
Silver hooks catch fragments of the show
Neon carp swim in a pixel glow
He reels in scenes that no one else will know
The projector dies where the water flows
Midnight passes with a whiskey grin
He packs his rod and lets the night back in
The screen flickers once with a western sky
Then darkness swallows where the images lie
Morning finds the lake glass smooth and deep
No fishermen no promises to keep
Just tire tracks that curve toward the water's edge
And footprints fading on the sediment ledge
Silver hooks catch fragments of the show
Neon carp swim in a pixel glow
He reels in scenes that no one else will know
The projector dies where the water flows
Footprints fade where the credits rolled
Footprints fade where the credits rolled
