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In all these rotten shops, in all this broken furniture
and wrinkled ties and baseball trophies and coffee pots
I have never seen a post-war Philco
with the automatic eye
nor heard Ravel’s “Bolero”…
[…] Didn’t she go to all the weddings in the neighbourhood? All that she got wind of, anyhow, and that were big enough for the dance to be given in a hall or a synagogue basement. A lot of them took…