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41 basal cell The sun is still burning in my skin even though it set half an hour ago, and Cindy and Bob and Bev and John are pulling on their sweatshirts and gathering around the fire pit. John hands me a cold one and now Bev comes into my arms and I can feel the sun’s heat, and taste the Pacific on her cheek. I am not in Vietnam, nor is John or Bob, because our deferments came through, and we get to remain boys for at least another summer like this one in Santa Cruz, surfing the afternoons in a sweet blue dream I’m remembering now, as the nurse puts my cheek to sleep, and the doctor begins to burn those summers away. ...

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