Gone Fishing

The moon hung high in the sky, reflecting back to itself in the ocean. Lights from across the abyss floated on the horizon. Unknown crews, unknown cargoes, unknown stories hidden from my consciousness. Teasing me with an impossible barrier stretching out between us. More bitter, more sweet, more "wow".
This was the scene as silent figures began to emerge from the periphery. Stage left and right, an act in and of itself. More moving and full of meaning than any Oscar nominated film on the market today.
We had been lounging at the sunset bar, one of our spots. Spread out at a table like big cats, full from their supper and relieved by the night's chill.
They were fisherman pulling in the catch. Salutations were exchanged and I was forced to squeeze out all of the Fon under my metaphorical belt.
I envied them. Unjustly, I know. Theirs was a job beyond my physical capabilities and without much to show for. But how can I be immune to the romanticism before my eyes, the same act that they've done for who knows how long and they were letting me help them, letting my hands ache with theirs. Behind us stretched a sore of urbanity, unchecked growth and the hopes of a young, small country. In front of us was the dark water and a navy of traders hell bent on having their way with Africa, comme l'habitude. Perhaps I generalize. Either way, they were not the show, merely the background.
In fact it was like reality itself was our background. We were the show, the escape. A brief bit of levity and normalacy in a crazy world beyond the ability to be reached. This was the show and for forty minutes I imagined people stopping and the planet's heart rate lowering as we dragged in the night's catch.
It wasn't much really. Maybe a hundred fish outnumbered by ocean trash. But it was exciting nonetheless. To have fought the outgoing tide and come up with food as the receding water revealed old ships wreaked by the ocean, their mysteries enhanced by the glow from the moon.
"Have some fish," they said. "I'm going home, thank you," I responded. They had given me enough. Close curtains.