There Are No Names for Red

XXIX

48 XXIX Percival says it’s not for the fishing. It’s for the river. The sudden bend that holds all the light in a man’s soul. There is something like awe in his eyes. He looks down and takes a bite of salmon. The fish is good. Pete’s is open late. we both like that. Nocturnes. sometimes a goat lifts a bottle. But we always stop short of the lips. Alcohol goes better with Pieces. we have none of their grace. 49 50 ...