24 May

Petra had suffered from dysentery in India the previous year, and had not begun to recover her strength. Her face was gaunt, her hair lank. We pulled up in front of Greg Sciano’s small stucco house, in the far northwest corner of the San Fernando Valley. It was the early seventies and nearby were still vestiges of orange groves and small horse ranches, but they were almost wiped out, like polio. Greg was a high school buddy. After graduation I went to Israel and Greg went to Vietnam, then became a mail carrier. He had acne scars and a big, bumpy nose. When he heard I was coming back to the Valley with a woman, he offered us his guest room. —-From GANESH, my short story recently published in Marco Polo Arts Mag


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