In the indigo sky hang lights like lanterns strung from here to eternity. Bright holes punched in the night, they creep in from the east, queued for landing but aimed at the spotlit moon holding fast in their path. But the moon gives way, first to one plane, then the
We're on our way to New York! Well, I'm waiting in line for a shoeshine at O'Hare, but excitedly. We bought lunch anonymously for three soldiers a little while ago in a concourse restaurant. Going home makes us feel happy.
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