Bobbing For Electric Eels

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She said “eclectic” tastes and I

Thought, “Sweet!” cinched up my girdle, and

Moved the movie script in my head

Into production. The air was

Autumn-rich, something dead again.

She hauled out a barrel, churning

Like cats in a Maytag, I closed

My eyes, held my breath, dove right in.

 

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