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Sterile An hour before dawn, Wife still asleep He leaves the house With fishing gear And a thermos of tea Spiked with brandy. He dreams of catfish And a way out Of a barren marriage. The road to the lake Appears at first light. He sings halfheartedly With the radio, sips tea. Dressed in denim and flannel, He doesn't feel like a man. Even his rifle can't change this. Past sunset, the catfish live. Other than stars, The only light comes From a sheriff's car Parked beside the lake. Everything is still. Sometimes, the entire world Seems to wait for the coroner.
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