Crabbing

They have come to crab.
Men,
women
boys
and girls.
Old
and young.
Black
and White.
Asian,
Indian.
straight
and gay.
And, rich and poor,
I suppose.
They sit,
they stand,
sometimes lounging
in a lawn chair
or on a blanket
or laying on the bulkhead,
waiting.
They have come to crab.
Their children skip.
And giggle.
And play together.
No barriers there.
There are
lots of crab stories
floating around.
Which is better…
the hand line or
a trap?
The round trap
or the square kind?
And the bait:
old chicken parts
or fish heads
or leftovers?
Males are “Jimmies.”
Females are “Jennys.”
Or sooks.
There are peelers,
or are they soft shells?
But, babies
are babies
and are
tossed back
into the canal
to grow into
adulthood .
Their time
in the steamer
has not yet come.
Their baptism with
Old Bay
will not be
this summer.

Pam Monahan