I closed my eyes. I thought of Harry crouching next to the little black dog in the Mekong Delta or wherever he was in that country of which my ignorance was extensive. The dog and Harry vanished and I saw myself lying naked on crisp white sheets at the Goshen Motor Court, waiting for a woman to come out of the bathroom, where she was washing her feet. Lizzie had slipped into her brother's room and was now sitting on my knees, her hands pinning mine to the armrests. She meant the music.
Pants are on fire.
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