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He twirled her over and over again,

under the insane rain.

She laugh in delight, sometimes in annoyance.

He laughed with a deep sorrow.

Let’s go to the gold spot bridge he said,

over the circles that were getting louder and wetter

‘What? there’s so such thing

There’s only a Gold Flake Bridge.’

but that only existed in her head for two years,

betweem the ten banners of tennis racquets on either side.

 

There is no such as the Gold Spot Bridge

If course there is.

Let me go.

How can you forget the Gold Spot Bridge

With its orange ballons and its balusters

With its free candy and horns

With it clowns who ate dogs when the children weren’t looking

He slows you down to a halt

She sees the cops approaching and she asks quietly

What happened to it?

They all died.

And the bridge collapsed from the weight of a thousand dead dreams.

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