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1913issue6online

154 Red Road Kate Dickie can’t stop thinking about the man she watched behind her surveillance camera. Rats taste dusty like tile. Color in their breath so fine. Our favor to rats at the end of the day: we eat them. Later that night, Jackie digs up a newspaper she has stored in her closet with empty milk bottles (the headline reads, “Blackie Hill Man Gets 10 Years,” accompanied by a photo of Tony Curran.) In the Iraqi town of Kanan, south of the provincial capital Baquba, a suicide bomber killed 13 Iraqis and a U.S. soldier and wounded 25 others, including 10 troops. I remain repaired by my own words, the right words, a speakeasy full of ache. Exactness a toilet in the window. :: :: :: :: :: :: Police in New Orleans have used crackdown confrontation, councils, and guns on people swinging against the government. And in the town of Abbara, north of Baquba, another Iraqi soldier was killed when armed men attacked his patrol. Guts and pinprick claws in the street outside. “Is this what a vagabond’s like?” the rat asks, dragged down and swallowed. The stars fall. It looks like it’s going to be an all-out effort. -Tony Trigilio

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