In the ironbound section near Avenue L
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where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
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the clouds so low the morning so slow
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as the wires cut through the sky
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The beams and bridges cut the light on the ground
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into little triangles and the rails run round
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through the rust and the heat
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the light and sweet coffee color of her skin
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Bound up in wire and fate
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watching her walk him up to the gate
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in front of the ironbound school yard.
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Kids will grow like weeds on a fence
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She says they look for the light they try to make sense.
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They come up through the cracks
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Like grass on the tracks
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She touches him goodbye.
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Steps off the curb and into the street
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the blood and feathers near her feet
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into the ironbound market
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In the ironbound section near Avenue L
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where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
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the clouds so low the morning so slow
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as the wires cut through the sky
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She stops at the stall
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fingers the ring
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opens her purse
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feels a longing
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away from the ironbound border
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"Fancy poulty parts sold here.
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Breasts and thighs and hearts.
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Backs are cheap and wings are nearly free.
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Nearly free"
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Ironbound/Fancy Poultry
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Suzanne Vega |