Essex Street Market

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I ran into Henry today, he owns the
Essex Street Market building.
Smells like old cigars, matted dreads
and stale construction. A hot city day,
breathing sidewalk and tar.

Henry told me his plan to screw
the vulture capitalists
was to put a high-rise
of low-income
housing on top of the market,
power it with solar panels —
“let those hotel bastards
look at us then!”

He said, “You don’t kill
the goose that laid the golden
egg cuz then you got no
more eggs.”

He said, “I remember when
I was young
and I wanted to be rich,
so I went out
and got rich.

Big fuckin’
deal.

I remember the first time I kissed
a girl and the time after that
and the time after that and
it was all in my head,
do you
understand?”

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