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9 snyder Bob Snyder Morning on Donnally Street I found myself in the wholesale district wandering past the warehouses printshops and storefronts of little jobbers the streets and walks lonely as long bridges when down the middle of the road comes the Wholesale of the Wholesale in her fuzzy bedroom slippers bright red Afro comb clutched in her skinny fingers her eyes upturned to God in heaven the way people do when there's something in them her exasperated bass voice hollering over and over again and again KISS MY BLACK ASS YOU OVERSEEIN' MOTHERFUCKER ...


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