like my uncle’s Cadillac. When I
went for a ride as a child it felt
like a limo in size. It had deep red
seats, red as a cardinal I believe. And

because he was Italian it felt like
I was part of the mafia family. He would
smoke those cheap cigars until the air
was thick with fog, like a rainy day

in London. And I wondered who he
had bludgeon. Because he used to be
a boxer in his youth, I swear he was a
sabertooth. He was fierce. Didn’t say much,

just gave you “the look” and you
knew. That’s all it took. I used to fish
with him early in the morning, when the sky
was black, black as his Cadillac.