I have very few photographs still with me of myself in my twenties, which is why we've jumped from early twenties to early thirties. Here I'm in Bangor, Maine, after living in California for six years, in a duplex Mary and I rented. I remember buying these lobsters. We drove about ten miles outside town late one night, on a silent, snow-covered road, to a little shack with a wooden door. Inside was a green rectangular tank about the size of a prone refrigerator, filled with magnificient, blue-black lobsters. They were climbing over each others' backs. A guy with a short moustache, parka thrown over his t-shirt, entered through the back door, asking how we found out about his operation. It was a bit like buying drugs, only more sensible. We could hear the lobsters clicking in the back seat all the way home.

Copyright © 2002 by Ralph Robert Moore. All Rights Reserved.

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