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Junk Shop Magic The magician pulled his gingham napkin off the three-legged table: Voila! He said, Your soul: a crag of obsidian displayed on the upturned butt of a dime-store cup. Tule fog scratched at the basement’s locked door. Shouldn’t it be a baseball-sized emerald? Precision-cut facets of a ruby throwing off light? He coughed, Here’s what you got,lit a Kool, then snapped two fingers and disappeared into his hat. I closed up shop, spent the night hunkered on a stack of junkyard bricks, skirt hem polishing my dull black rock.  Dumesnil PGS:Layout 1 4/28/09 12:32 PM Page 48 ...

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