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teenagers began acting like the BOY looking
at you with a dreamy look lips parted over
their Wheaties. They all bought BOY shirts
and BOY knives running around like wolf
packs burning, looting, killing, it spread
everywhere all that summer in Marrakech,
the city would light up at night, human
torches flickering on walls, trees, fountains,
all very romantic, you could map the danger-
ous areas sitting on your balcony under the
stars sipping a scotch. I looked across the
square and watched a tourist burning in blue
fire, they had gasoline that burned in all col-
ors by then. . . .” (He turned on the projector
and stepped to the edge of the balcony.) . . .
“Just look at them out there, all those little
figures dissolving in light. Rather like fairy-
land isn’t it, except for the smell of gasoline
and burning flesh.
“Well they called in a strong man, Colonel
Arachnid Ben Driss, who cruised the city in
trucks, rounded up the gas boys, took them
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