| Us kids swim of a gray pier, dive off,
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| I go down the street after emptying my pockets of old roaches and think
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| «I better go through all my stuff»
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| I live in the Fortier cellar in a dismal damp room furnished like a vampire’s
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| castle
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| people visit me I go to Jerry Richman’s and Bill Wolfe’s business store and they’re having an argument about something they’re fixing or trying to sell
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| We cut and measure it out, some nameless huge taffy, we taste it Then there’s a marvelous rack of delicate chocolates and flavors from all over
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| the world and ground cinnamon nuts and coffee fruits and they mix em all up in
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| a big batter and bake and Coffee Cake emerges which is the most delicous thing
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| in the world
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| «That's yesterday’s unfresh cake,"I say, «Can I have it?»
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| they don’t even comment, I’m to understand that they only eat fresh baked
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| Coffee Cake —
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| Bill says of a nut dropped «I'll eat it, they’re asking a lot for it»
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| and he plops it in his mouth, as Jerry does the mixing
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| I try a sweet bitter chocolate piece shaped like a little stove,
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| from a box in the rack
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| the Cake comes out square, streaked with colours like marble cake,
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| suffused with exotic African and Brazilian flavors, crunchy with Cocoa nuts
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| and Nutmeg nuts and Crushed Chunky Nut
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| its terrific
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| I hope they’ll give me some — they hardly know I am there |