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   d e n n y 's,    d o w n t o w n    s e a t t l e    3 :4 2    a m

--- J O S E   C H A V E S

Now here is a gentleman with a bat on his shoulder
of fine craftsmanship, a lady with eyes like June bugs
but all she can say is, Paris is wonderful in Spring;
as if one could know Paris donning an owl-pellet-beret,
or dissecting a chocolate vertebrate along the Seine.

Perhaps you didn't know Baudelaire invented poetry, while fondling the rosary of a Hungarian nun, that "Dada" had five chambers and was covered by a protective flap. Perhaps with a road map, you even found the Eiffel Tower unaware that Artaud had dubbed it the "iron scrotum."

Still, I'm afraid these crumbs you see scattered before you are not of the literary sort, they're what's left of a fat woman's

sandwich--now, if you are ready, I can take your orders.

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