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Barefoot on Thin Ice


The hook
The weeds
By the dropoff
Were my domain.
Twelve feet under
The shimmering ripples
Of the lake.
Ripe to take the bait.
And here it was.
The shadow of a boat
A glistening streak of line
And a fresh minnow
screaming
Impaled on a barbed hook.
My time had come.
I snapped the minnow
To its peace
And swallowed the hook
With the passion of a man
Who will not die in bed.
She drew my lips to her
With abandon
And 10# test
And the drag
Of a woman unrequited.
I jumped and thrashed
With the thrill of the hunted.
Spent
I drifted into her net.
Too small.
But at least I wear the hook.
 
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