by Jeffrey Hecker

Dear Mama,

I moved in with that brunette oceanographer I was telling you about who can’t swim. I always

ask what she does each day. I love to listen. She continues to ask about my job. I’m afraid I’m

going to have to start making up fish stories. Last work week:

“How was your Monday, honey?”
“I constructed an artificial reef using used barn doors. And yours?”
“I watched the water for people drowning.”

“How was your Tuesday, sweetie?
“The sea’s hadopelagic zone is 20,000 feet deep. And yours?”
“I watched the water for people drowning.”

“How was your Wednesday, pumpkin head?”
“I saw a Nematode that reminded me of my ex. And yours?”
“I watched the water for people drowning.”

“How was your Thursday, sugar muffin?”
“The surface of salt tide freezes at -1.9° Centigrade. And yours?”
“Good.”

“How was your Friday, Captain Janeway?”
“I can’t find the basin or basis of my thermohaline circulation. And yours?”
“I saved a boy for no reason.”

Love,
your first born,
Poochie Johnson

Jeffrey Hecker was born in 1977 in Norfolk, VA. A graduate of Old Dominion University, he co-founded the literary magazine 44th Street. His debut book, Rumble Seat, was published by San Francisco Bay Press. Recent work has appeared online inaltdaily.com and The Waterhouse Review. He lives with his wife Robin in Olde Towne Portsmouth, Virginia. His very existence within its city limits is ruining gentrification.

*Photo courtesy of pirate johnny.