Fiction | March 01, 2010
Yukon River
Diane Simmons
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It’s 1975, and Len had known about the pipeline. But he thought it would be far away, lost in the immense space of Alaska, a trickle of silver sliding alone silently in the vast slope of snow. As he lay on his bunk in Folsom, he had not thought of it being right here, a fat, ugly snake of greed and pollution; he had not imagined it strangling the little snow-covered log town he had fallen in love with.
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