Vigo offers water where the fish are--his little buddies, the lamprey--but the "Real Madrid" wants water where the depths are.
The tide's coming in, Vigo's cold.
Finally he's figured out which way he empties.
A drunk fisherman, seeing Vigo's innovation--a thermal mug for transporting hot or cold beverages--says "Hey hermetico, hermetico!"
Vigo throws away cheese. It sinks. He throws away a pen that doesn't work. It floats.
Vigo Bay looks in a mirror, sees the dark forms under concrete, tide rising.
Vigo's the ancient hook too old to use, too heavy to remove.
Thank goodness, he breathes.
Vigo aches in shadows.
Vigo Bay doesn't answer
the same way twice, the moon
as it is.