I saw Cat Crawford, in the parking lot, next to the K-Mart yesterday. He was pushing out a cart. Eggs, whole milk, and lucky charms. One blonde girl in the baby seat, another running ahead between the parked cars. Weaving in a folly snake. (I did that once.) He wore blue jeans, a baseball cap, a tattered blue collared shirt. He had a fish hook hooked into his hat. And though he did not see me I looked at him the same way he looked at me the night he hooked a fish hook into his hat after he ran it through my skin. My Dad used to keep fish hooks in his hat, the one I used to wear when he passed away. That was different, he used them to catch real fish, (scaled fish). Do these (his) blond little girls ever see a fish hook cut skin? Did they feel the catch release catch take, catch, gut, release, catch, catch, only to scab over the next morning. Does he wipe off the blood before sticking the hook back into his hat? Or did he snare you and stick it to you as a way of saying goodbye and hello again?
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