The Catch
crud, he said,
hauling it out of the water,
what is it?
a Hollow-Back June Whale, I said.
no, said a guy standing by us on the pier,
it’s a Billow-Wind Sand-Groper.
a guy walking by said,
it’s a Fandango Escadrille without stripes.
we took the hook out and the thing stood up and
farted. it was grey and covered with hair
and fat and it stank like old socks.
it began to walk down the pier and we followed it.
it ate a hot dog and bun right out of the hands of
a little girl. then it leaped on the merry-go-round
and rode a pinto, it fell off near the end and
rolled in the sawdust.
we picked it up.
grop, it said, grop.
then it walked back out on the pier.
a large crowd followed us as we walked along.
it’s a publicity stunt, said somebody,
it’s a man in a rubber suit.
then as it was walking along it began to breathe
very heavily, it fell on its
back and began to thrash.
somebody poured a cup of beer over its head.
grop, it went, grop.
then it was dead.
we rolled it to the edge of the pier and pushed it
back into the water. we watched it sink and vanish.
it was a Hollow-Back June Whale, I said.
no, said the other guy, it was a Billow-Wind Sand-Groper.
no, said the other expert, it was a Fandango Escadrille
without stripes.
then we all went our way on a mid-afternoon in August.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
