If I could see nothing but the smoke From the tip of his cigar, I would know everything About the years before the war. If his face were halved by shadow I would know This was a street where an EATS sign trembled And a Greek served coffee black as a dog's eye. If I could see nothing but his wrist I would know
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Q. Why is not the air in CITIES so FRESH, as that in the COUNTRY?
A. Because it is impregnated with the breath of its numerous inhabitants…
—from Guide to Science, 1868 by Rev. Dr. Brewer
there will be three parts. pay attention to your breath.
He's waving a plastic pointer, stiff flag enter lot here, parking at the edge of Lincoln--bright-yellow clown suit with bold ruffles and floppy shoes (the kind with stuffed toes) and from even a short distance he could be anyone degraded selling what?, he could be, but he is a man, clearly Mexican,