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J A N E H O O G E S T R A AT Summer Darkness Stepping that spring into southern rain with nothing to protect the papers he carried rolled carelessly, he paused, turning with a gaze beyond arrogance, as though he meant to relinquish all caution, would never seek shelter in a lighted doorway again or speak another human word about danger. Tonight fans rotate tediously, sirens announce how late it has all become, the summer darkness settles in, not less for coming later, breath denser than winter and slower to arrive or leave, and that face, voiceless, returns with a warning from a corner in the mind that says only swerve. 126 ❚ The 1980s ...

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