published in Volume 4, Issue 3 on December 31st, 1997
Old man, toothless, whiskered, skin the color of bayou water, holds up his catch: two fat cats yellow, big headed, mud heavy. "Didn't think I had enough pound to haul them in. Thought I had hooked me a log, but I never gave up."
Old man casts. Sits on overturned bucket. Smells of fish, worm, and bayou water. Old eyes rest on rod. "Fish where the bayous meet," he whispers. Points to a spot where muddy waters swirl. "They like to sit on the bottom and wait." Old man smokes. Dreams behind half closed eyes, or imagines fat yellow cat hauling on line dropped where Bayous meet.
Old man waits.