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291 f r o m t h e j u i c e t h e l i t e r a l s n a k e A snake was dancing in the waterfall. I don’t know what kind. We were about halfway up Middle Creek as it comes down Signal Mountain our first summer out of college jumping from big rock to little precarious rock when we saw this snake dancing like a Hindu’s rope in a little offhand waterfall. Nevermind what allusions occur to me now. All of them occurred to us then that summer of many animals and all of them put to rout with our thumping: the motorboat left running by itself in a circle mumbling at the two of us coupled in the water on a submerged stump at three in the afternoon with aunts and uncles coming in the front door back too early calling Is Anybody Home while we slip into the Chevrolet naked as rabbits and always getting away but never really to ourselves unless it was laughing at that literal snake dancing in his waterfall. ...

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