All the Fish in the River

SAIGON

Giant fish shimmering in the evening light leap over and around each in a frantic race upstream. Must be mating season. They fill every nook every gap between rocks, they push and bump, tumble and return, but never do their black mirror eyes leave their goal. When I cross, and everyone must eventually cross the river, they simply swim around me, as if I were surrounded by an invisible force field. And one carfeul step at I time, I cross, while the fish continue their unnebbing battle. But they aren't fish, they are motobikes, and it's not a river, it's a street.

New crush.