Publisher's Synopsis
Now the last light that I would ever see; Portland again, after my life had ended. It's ground bells, runted and saving our lives, for whoever made us journey this far is no longer my friend; I have forgotten his name. Not that it was important. Perhaps I would have come anyway. I have gotten a job as a clerk at the ice rink, where I am very polite, and where the dark always comes too soon, and I must say goodbye to all the pretty girls and men and find my way home on the trolley, to the house where we have come to sleep. Outside the ice rink the field extends near five miles, into marsh. I can stand there a year or five minutes; it's the same. Red and gin and the light.
