When the pickup truck, with its side mirror, almost took out my arm, the driver's grin reflected back; it was just a horror show that was never going to happen, don't protest, don't bother with the police for my benefit, he gave me a smile— he too was startled, redness in his face— when I thought I was going, a short while, to get myself killed: it wasn't anger when he bared his teeth, as if to caution calm down, all good, no one died, ni[ght, neighbor]— no sense getting all pissed, the commotion of the past is the past; I was so dim, he never saw me—of course, I saw him. |
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