memory 3

then what happened in the plotless point, asked elf.

a young smiling cambodian man without hands smoked a cigarette.

he held it between stubs.

his rolling cart held genocide books and angkor aspara dancers.

he left a fractured conversation with a friend in expansive green shade near a brown river. 

hi mister, want to buy a book? a dancer? cheap. good morning price. brings luck.

no thank you. reading history is destined for marvelous suffering memory.

dancers live forever, he said, dancing to the sea. waves turned a page.