where to go?
I turn this way, the stone lets me go.
I turn that way, I’m inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names, half expecting to find my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap’s white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman’s blouse but when she walks away the names stay's on the wall.
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