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plate sides

March 27, 2008

 The bridge I had crossed on all my life was closed for repairs is what the sign said but it didn’t look like it needed repairs to me. Same arched steel beams with fat rivets and plate sides and grating to drive on. I could see it from the new-looking concrete thing I crossed on, over to the other side where NuNu’s yard sat all alone. The lots that had once held a rivers life were peppered with for sale signs and flimsy temporary fences. “NEW RIVERSIDE DEVELOPMENTS ON THE WAY” said one sign. I looked both directions and the road was empty. Not a fuckin thing coming that I could see. I was there right then, I was there and nothing coming but me and I was headed for NuNu’s. That old crushed-coke driveway had pot-holes to swallow a sedan, half full of nasty-ass water and the gate was made of old corrugated, eight foot high, and the fence around the front of the yard was the same, all rusty in spots, but standing tall like the walls of a scrapyard castle is how it was to me that day. Front of the gate was painted the old advert, ‘All types of metal bought and sold, ton weight and assorted. engine blocks, cars partial and whole accepted. Certified scale on premises’ . My gramps turned no one away. Come give NuNu a big kiss. 

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