Us kids swim of a gray pier, dive off,
I go down the street after emptying my pockets of old roaches and think
"I better go through all my stuff"
I live in the Fortier cellar in a dismal damp room furnished like a vampire's castle
People visit me
I go to Jerry Richman's and Bill Wolfe's business store and they're having an argument about something they're fixing or trying to sell
We cut and measure it out, some nameless huge taffy, we taste it
Then there's a marvelous rack of delicate chocolates and flavors from all over the world and ground cinnamon nuts and coffee fruits and they mix em all up in a big batter and bake and Coffee Cake emerges which is the most delicous thing in the world
"That's yesterday's unfresh cake," I say, "Can I have it?"
They don't even comment, I'm to understand that they only eat fresh baked Coffee Cake -
Bill says of a nut dropped "I'll eat it, they're asking a lot for it" and he plops it in his mouth, as Jerry does the mixing
I try a sweet bitter chocolate piece shaped like a little stove, from a box in the rack
The Cake comes out square, streaked with colours like marble cake, suffused with exotic African and Brazilian flavors, crunchy with Cocoa nuts and Nutmeg nuts and Crushed Chunky Nut
I hope they'll give me some - they hardly know I am there