Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Hawk Season Notebook #58



Hawk Season Notebook #58

They were teaching us to square dance. We were six or seven years old, curious about school cafeteria rats and the angels God hired to push clouds across the sky. A few of us had nickels for the hallway ice cream machine. I may have said to a teacher, Piss on the square dance, because the tops of my hands were briefly whipped with a straightened wire coat hanger. I was then sent to sit on a wooden chair facing a much-painted dull green wall. A book or a magazine was on another chair. The next time that hour that I was struck with a coat hanger... I was reading about people lost in the Sierras who died chewing on ox hides and each other.

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