I then tookit back to my motel room, carefully dusted it for fingerprints,scanned them into my laptop, and compared them with the prints fromthe FBI's...file. They were a perfect match!Here, in the obscurity of the Palouse Valley, selling used textbooksto students and Harlequin romances to bored housewives, I had foundthe greatest poet America had ever produced.I returned to the store just as he was getting reading to close forthe evening. "You are John Edward Remington," I said, "and I. As much as this contrasted with his macho man persona, it felt pretty good, and he let out an unbecoming sigh as the alien leaned down and dragged her hot tongue across his throat.He felt his spine rise off the bed as her teeth glanced his neck, hard and sharp, not enough to break the skin but enough to sting. It was as if she were advising him to stay still, and he complied, verbal communication out of the question with no common language. He was a little afraid, she was so large and heavy in. More

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