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Last Entry Bridge. Roadblock. Food, clips, no pay for months. So we charge. Booze food money smokes. A fuck. Sometimes some people don't act right. Quick river trip. One day a geezer. Suitcase. A book. Stands in line writing. Doesn't look right. "You're a spy!" "No, these are merely my private thoughts." We tell him to read his private thoughts. He's crying, it's some crap. "How do we know it says that!" Crap in suitcase, pockets. "It's in code! You're a spy!" We show him what else can be done with paper. Asswipe. Then food. Then we kick him a bit, but the line's getting longer. Quick river trip. The war stops the next week. I go home, it's burned. I move on. Settle down, get married. Kids. These things didn't happen. Every life is full of things that don't happen. Some you want, some you don't, some private.