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To Marissa Ranello's previous piece
Staten Island Ferry Rough water, damn boat keeps a rockin'. Stomach in knots. "Shine, shine, shine." Man wants to shine 'em, I say no, "white sneakers!" They sell green hot dogs to Veterans, and flags to foreign visitors. The punk rock kid pukes into his hands. Motions for a napkin. Two business men in business suits kiss passionately. Old barefoot black man picks at his toes, gives me a wink. In turn, I rub my cleavage. Make three wishes, but only one comes true. The man beside me stops masturbating behind his NY Times.
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