The Fish That Never Swam
The fish that never swam, whispers of vice,
the shell became the drug.
The dead man’s son emerged with shadows to cast,
the honest dollar turned into a deadly spice.
The net-burning celebration was
the fisherman’s legacy, fading fast.

 In Maine, the rise in drug addiction has strained already fragile communities, leading to increased homelessness, crime, and fractured social bonds. Fishermen and others in rural trades, once seen as the backbone of these communities, now find themselves entangled in the drug trade.
Many addicts find themselves indebted to drug dealers or forced into situations where they commit crimes to support their habits. This is a reflection of the increasing criminalization of addiction and how the drug trade exacerbates social decay in these regions.

Tangled Nets
Bonfires blaze as they play, no one wins in this game,
They gather to raise money for the three-legged dog.
There is always a three-legged dog here.
Fishermen’s sons are not bound by honor or shame.
The lobster fleet anchors off the coast
in the tangled nets in the maritime air.

In rural Maine, the economic decline of industries such as fishing and logging has made communities more vulnerable to drug trafficking and addiction. When economic opportunities shrink, some individuals turn to drug trafficking to make ends meet, further entrenching the cycle of addiction and despair. 

Mainers Don’t Always Wear Flannel
We brave the cold winters and bear the snow,
With dry humor. You don’t get it, we know.
Mainers in flannel, you imagine us, from head to toe,
Even in summer, you think that we refuse to forgo—
closets of quilted plaid and red,
it’s not our only wardrobe,
no beanie on top for bed,
yet sometimes nothing under our robe.
And when winter comes, thicker than molasses.
We wear shorts and no coats, like stubborn asses.
‘Cuz it ain’t winter till we put on our coat! I ain’t puttin’ on my coat. Then we hunker inside to watch re-runs of “Murder she wrote”.

Despite the anguish of the years following 2020, humanity still existed in its pre-pandemic cultural humor. Sometimes it was the memory of how it used to be that kept people going, hoping to regain the normalcy and prosperity of the past.