Roe and Tut

He put on his coal-duster, jiggling closed the clasp, and left. Dejesus, dressed in his coal-duster, the clasp jiggled closed, left. He left, but not before jiggling closed the clasp. When he went sniggling Dejesus wore his coal-duster, the clasp jiggled closed. Were it not for O’ Callahan’s no man worth his weight in salt could stay the winds. Pockets laddered with crowberries and cress, Dejesus cuts the hardliner south, looking afterward for the northern most pitch. Below the tumpline the eels bed in their own slip. The day after Ships Day the banks of the aqueduct spilled over with roe and tut. The dogmen culled the eels into whicker baskets, laying them out to blister in the swelter. When not selling old shoes and heel supports from the boot of their car, the Sibu Brothers of Sarawak sniggled for eels. They supplemented what meager income they made from old shoes and heel supports with the money they made from sniggling. ’...what a strange oddity of people...’ said Dejesus. ‘…I must have lost my way...’.