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| 46 South Past Albuquerque, Guided by Rain Everyone in the car was afraid, yet we talked about it. The men came in the night, then went away in black rain. It was the empty road to San Miguel, the curve toward La Union, the moon forgotten on the road because it was the path to Kilbourne Hole. Everyone had a story to tell. Some got told, some were changed to keep families alive. One man spoke about the eagle that descended at Cuchillo, bending the tree with its weight, then flying away with a small bundle in its claws, the fear everyone worshipped returning when the eagle dropped white stones. We talked about the bird as we drove south past Albuquerque guided by the quiet rain. When it stopped, the road glistened with the sweat of the storyteller who is never afraid. ...

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