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Show Go Love/217 These fishermen, there's something calming in their voices, like they're somehow meant to be here at the end of it all, and the fire out there burning wasn't so bad, more like something that you know and recognize in your heart as right and good and inevitable, though a surprise nonetheless I hear myself break into the story I'll learn to tell for the rest of my life, the one that will become f an heirloom for my people, how we drove the road through the valley of the shadow and lived to tell. I make it clear that this all happened in the wake of my mother's death, and leave it at that. The dancing woman has morphed into a clown. She swishes our way. "We should have a fire every night of our lives," she says and is gone. Above us, rising on the horizon, the fat Strawberry Moon is blood red I haven't seen it coming none of it, not for a long way back. This smoke-wreated moon is alien, a shock, in no way related to anying I've ever seen. Later, before sleep, Renee touches my face, traces either side of my lips. Corny, something straight off a Hallmark card, but I feel her fingertips and know that in the end, love wins all. I wake to a glow that was outside and inside. I'm thinking two things at the same time, if that's possible. The first, I don't know why, is about that Breughel painting that shows the fall of Icarus, though the boy's death is only a backdrop against the gardener gardening and the shepherd shepherding sheep that munch the grassy hillside, a nice day with ships sailing, the wind puffing white sails~a day just like today had been. And the other thought was is of that bride in the water. I see her laying the line out over the hole that darkened beneath a desert-varnished boulder, the sort the Anasazi chose for infinite spirals. The river will burn clear to Colorado and a thousand firefighters will conjoin, a unit of |