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60 What I Could Have Done to East Missoula Say those summer nights in Hellgate Canyon I didn’t only breathe smoke from Lodgepole Pine wildfires, but started my own. Oh, it would be brainless. Those yellow-dry batteries of timber riding the slope toward the river could have been reached only by shot of garden hoses, as flames shrieked toward single-story houses in blue, and that playground with the last surviving merry-go-round in the United States. Dogs would strain padlocked chains against stakes, where they yanked backward from the coming heat. Friends, self-destruction can be put upon anything, even a highway village met when I was made of matches, not grass. ...

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