I ignored him until he throttled down. That was not normal.
It was a pleasant night, but an hour after curfew. City lights from Saigon to the east turned the dark a velvety purple, and the sweet
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Murmurations
Of rippling ribbons
Against rain-full skies
Above the stubble fields
Of slump-shouldered towns
Where restaurant dining
Is fries in paper bags
And shopping consists
Of convenience store trips.
There, the main allure,
Aladdin's magic lamp,
Is the Interstate sign
Pointing the way out.