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picture came
yesterday, slipped as bait
into the open mouth
of my mailbox. the soft, fingered edges
of foreign stationary, his signature
lines & expressions unfurl
like cold st.lawrence currents
over my continental body.
he is shrimping now, baiting hooks:
a warm cement pool gouged
into t’ai-chung’s already choked lungs.
caught white & heavy-handed
in between a day-glo green rice patty
& a dan bing stand. fisting a can
of acidic chinese brew, he chats with locals.
he, in search of anything. western
hunger waning into a simple desire—
the capture of a creature
only capable of swimming backwards,
away.
shrimping:
a postcard
by dani couture
from: midnight
grocery,
©2004
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