Once upon a midnight dreary, with my eyesight weak and bleary,
Having spent the better part of Sunday at a big box store,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly I heard a flapping,
Like a giant fishtail slapping, fwapping just outside my door.
"'Tis some weirdo," I conjectured, "clapping at my old front door--
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, perhaps I was not sober, seeing how in late October
I was scarfing Russell Stover chocolates like a famished boar.
Halloween was fast approaching; why should I be thus encroaching,
Emptying my candy stash which I was hoarding by the door--
Saving cheap revolting candy for the costumed kids galore?--
Sugar addicts by the score.

But the freaky, messed up swishing that I heard soon had me wishing
My imagination to be not so ghoulish as it had before;
So that now, to calm the beating of my heart I started tweeting:
"Hashtag trick-or-treaters bleeping scaring me outside my door.
Hashtag early bleeping trick-or-treaters at my old front door.
Stupid kids, and nothing more."

I could hold my rage no longer; "Hey!," I shouted, "What fishmonger
Comes around annoying people like a drunken Navy corps?
It's not Halloween, you moron! Check the calendar, and you're on
Shaky, even seismic ground with all your flapping at my door!
Get the heck away from here!" - at that, I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Turning back into my kitchen, mumbling, "Lousy sons-a-bitchin'
Pranksters having such a grand old time at my expense! What for?
There he goes again, the flapper! There goes my night, in the crapper!
I'll surprise this whippersnapper!" Sneaking slowly towards the door,
Tippy toeing silently and flinging open my front door--
"Like a tiger, hear me roar!"

To my utter disbelief, I saw before me dressed in knee high
Rubber boots and dripping overalls, (a floppy hat he wore)--
In he barged as if his mission forced on me a quick decision;
Yanking me into the kitchen, throwing something on the floor,
This strange fisherman had dropped a living something, on my floor!
Plopped it right down on my floor!

Then this mariner unshaven, eyes as black as any raven,
Set my mind to questioning as to this fish upon my floor.
"Though my fridge is rather empty, what in Neptune's name has sent me
Living flesh designed to tempt me, more than I could ever store?
Tell me why I should be mopping up, when you've messed up my floor?"
Quoth the sailor, "Albacore."

"Strange," thought I, "that such a bearded fisherman who likely speared it
Somewhere out beyond the leaping waves that pound the rocky shore--
Suddenly should choose my dwelling for some reason so compelling
He could not refrain from smelling up my brand new kitchen floor--
Barging in and flinging down this massive bluefin on my floor--
Wherefore bring me albacore?"

But the sailor, gruff and surly, glared and muttered taciturnly
Nothing but that single word, as if some special charm it bore--
Then commenced he with the honing of a knife, and soon deboning
Skillfully this fish, atoning for the shock I'd felt before--
"What," said I, "can be the meaning of these fishy guts and gore?"
Quoth the sailor, "Albacore."

"That was obvious and plain as anything, you ignoramus!
I see fish that's freshly caught, let's not prolong this anymore--
Cut me up some cold sashimi, make the texture moist and creamy--
After that you'll never see me griping," I proclaimed and swore,
"Trust me, as my doctor says I need to eat more fish!," I swore,
"Might as well be albacore."

Then the sailor, Ginzu wielding, finger knuckles deftly shielding,
Soon had finished, finally yielding to his host and omnivore
Gleaming trays and fancy platters, fine arrays in clever patterns,
Filigreed, filleted and laddered tender slabs of Neptune's ore,
After having caught and carved this exemplar of Neptune's ore,
Quoth the sailor, "Albacore."

I, not wanting to seem pushy, found my thoughts engorged with sushi,
Dreaming hazily of special maki rolls not seen before:
Deep-fried daikon with wasabi, topped with julienned kohlrabi,
All adorning mounds of blobby fish! It thrilled me to the core!
Just omega-3's alone, the prospect thrilled me to the core!
Hallelujah! Albacore!

But, as if to halt ingestion, sprang to mind a burning question,
Stopping me from digging in, a mental caveat emptor;
"Hold on, sailor, I'm rethinking this, so let's wait just a stinking
Minute! What about the shrinking fisheries? We can't ignore
Crises due to climate change at our own peril! We ignore
What could save the albacore!"

"Profit!" said I, "thing of evil! Greed itself is like a devil
Seizing souls of men to tempt them with gold dreams of more and more,
Searching oceans ever farther for the catch to fill their charter
Vessels, making life much harder for the fish we all adore--
Was this tuna purchased via CSF, I must implore!"
Quoth the sailor, "Albacore."

"Fine," said I with resignation, "Clearly, this is some fixation,
Maybe you're like Captain Ahab, lost a mind you can't restore--
If you're hungry, feed your palate! Go ahead, I'll make a salad!
Watercress and one minced shallot, sauerkraut from New Leaf store;
Anything that might enhance your dining pleasure more, Señor?"
Quoth the sailor, "Albacore."

And the sailor, since our meeting, still is eating, still is eating;
Now and then he pauses and discards a sharp bone on the floor;
And my stomach, ever willing, with this tuna overfilling--
Maybe next time I'll try grilling, and invite my neighbors--or
Buy a giant fridge or freezer that enables me to store
Ah, such tasty albacore!