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Show Go Love/224 awesome Lookout coast stretched out before them like a movie When they stop and wave back, birds spiral overhead. A brace of cold salt air gets me in the face I'm alive-I'm going to make it. The Chinese man, the one whose in this Zen groove, smiles stands his rod in the surf spike and walks the wide beach to the cliff wall where he's gathered whatever he uses for bait. When I walk up, he's bent over a mussel bed, kicking the fist-sized shells loose with his wader boot heel Under the shells, where they've been attached to wet rock, a brown tentacle twitches and snakes and the Chinese man grabs this, pulls it out and slides it in his front pocket. "Excuse me. What are you doing?" The man-he's my size, thin and lean-turns on me and smiles, big white teeth, and he raises his brows in what I take to be a question. I hold my hands in front of my chest, like I'm gripping a rod while a fish jerks. "What are you using?" His smile widens He stands up straight, steps toward me. "Sheep-ha." he says "Sheep-ha!" "Sheep ha?" "Sheep-ha'" He sticks his fingers into the front pocket, heart side of his chest, pulls out a coiling worm, the size of his little finger, the length of his hand. Between thumb and index finger, the thing writhes right in front of my face. "Sheep-ha!" he shouts the third time with much conviction, as if understanding this gnarled worm is the key to the world. He shakes it in my face, raises his brows. He wants to make sure that I get it, that I seize what's happening this second "Sheep-ha." I say, "Sheep-ha" and nod. He nods, smiles Then he walks away and leaves me the mussel bed, where I set immediately to kicking shells loose with river sandals, gathering up the tough-hided worms from the razor |