by Michael W. Cox
The Eagle’s Nest occupied the third floor of an old factory. Boys walked up wide steel stairs to get there, past dirty windows showing old looms on the first floor and bald manikins on the second, the building shaped like a box. The men’s dormitory was built like an E lying on its back, with entryways lining its interior, streets running three sides of it, and a dumpster-filled alleyway behind, where vagrants slept at night. On the plaza outside the dorm, protesters marched against the war. Long hair, scraggly beards, blue jeans, black boots—you couldn’t tell them from the vagrants. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 