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Empanadas, Empanadas
I cut through Hull at twelve-ten o’clock, Cold wind off Midway, sharp as rock. Then through the crowd, above the day: Empanadas, empanadas! —clear as May.
Life
I cut through Hull at twelve-ten o’clock, Cold wind off Midway, sharp as rock. Then through the crowd, above the day: Empanadas, empanadas! —clear as May.