augury doggerel

Friday, October 25, 2002

Crispin Crispian

A man who bites nubile jugular by night and cobbles by day settles on his perch at my favorite restaurant, the one with good Friday feasts, fries and vinegar. I almost like his company this time of day, when he thinks on his descent and nibbles the soft bits of unschooled fingerlings. He talks matter-of-factly through courses of battered fry and leaves their small heads on his plate.


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