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705 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 2008








COP 1: "Perception, reality, whatever. They're not happy, and s**t rolls downhill. They're at the peak, I'm like mid-mountain, and you're in this, this arroyo at the bottom. If I can be any more picturesque than that, let me know."
COP 2: "In my father's house there are many bosses."
Despite its stark opulence, the place was the size of a shoe box, with barely a foot clearance between that huge bed and the three-sided terrace, which offered an imperial overview of the area: a sea of cramped and huddled walk-ups and century-old elementary schools, the only structures out there aspiring to any kind of height the randomly sprouting bright yellow Tyvek-wrapped multistory add-ons, and farther out, superimposed against the river, the housing projects and union-built co-ops that flanked the east side of this grubby vista like siege towers.



Sometimes these hand get so clumsy
That I drop things and people laugh
Sometimes these hands get so graceful
I can see them signin' autographs
(Chorus) What I want to know from you
When you hear my plea
Do you like or love
Either or both of me
(repeat)
Sometimes this face looks so funny
That I hide it behind a book
Sometimes this face has so much class
That I have to sneak a second look
Sometimes this life gets so empty
That I become afraid
Then I remember you're in it
And I think I might still have it made