Postcard from Perdido Key

I tried not to get jealous as I read the postcard.
Oh, the picture it contained,
I dreamed back to a place with no pain.
A place where the tide would rush over your feet,
or the docks where those funny birds would meet.
The time you would wade in,
and how the salty spray would bash against you again and again.

The rod, stuck in the sand, slumping over as a fish took
the bait.
When you reel in the line,
how the fish fought,
and how the feeling was after it was caught.
All of these memories I think,
but here I am at home.
Doesn't that stink.