I saw him on the dock in the morning,
With a fishing pole and tackle box in his hands,
He looked more than vaguely familiar,
And I thought to myself;  you know, I think I know this man.

He was kyphotic,
As the elderly tend to be,
Decked out in gray Bermuda shorts,
And a Hawaiian shirt of various  blues and greens.

“Are you waiting for a ride?”
I asked, as I looked into his bespectacled eyes,
He said, “Ja, but for three days,
My freund, he has not arrived.”

“I’m taking my boat out fishing,” I said,
As I studied him closely out of  the corner of my eye,
"And if you don’t have anything else planned,
Come along, and I may even let you drive."

He hopped into the air,
And he looked almost gleeful to me,
And then, I knew this man was Henry Kissinger,
Confidante to presidents and kings.

I let him drive the boat,
As fast as he wanted to go,
And you know that little German fellow,
Really put on a show.

His path was serpentine at best,
And never did I feel that we were stable,
But I felt the founder of shuttle diplomacy,
Should have fun as long as he was able.

We soon reached the place,
Where I had told him that fishing would be good,
So he turned a couple of donuts,
Probably just because he could.

Henry was unassuming,
Especially for the genius that he is,
And today he was more interested in fishing,
Than telling stories of other politicians.

So we dropped our lines into the sea,
And hoped to catch a trophy,
A big snapper, cod, or grouper;
Something fit for roasting.

"Mr. Kissinger, if you were a fish,
Which species do you think you would be?"
”I zuppose zhat I’m a tuna wis no sole,
And by zie vay, you can call me Henry.”

We talked of love and travel,
And of his time on the world stage,
Of Nixon, McGovern, and Carter,
And of what he does with his days today.

And it turned out to be quite a day,
Me and Henry on the high seas,
Drinking cocktails in the twilight at dockside,
And sending fishermens' stories out to float on the evening breeze.