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By Wayne Jackson 1950-1989
“Bulljack, damn it, you still love her, don’t you?” I lay there and thought about it for a minute. Mary’s hands brushed through my hair where it lay in her lap. Very light fingered, barely touched the scalp, all the way back. Sometimes I think I’m half cat.
“Yeah”, I said out loud, "I"
“ I guess I do.”
Copyright © 1997 by Donald Wayne Jackson, All rights reserved