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May 7, 2018
Do the same fingers that skim her neck in bed when he returns in the early hours of the morning also press buttons that discharge AGM-114 Hellfire missiles that destroy enemy safe sahouses in faceless desert towns?


May 7, 2018
“Hey, Superman, hey, Superman,” a bum drones as he shuffles by, and Kent ignores him but also feels maybe he isn’t one to judge, broke as he is and some kid’s dried puke flaking off his leg.