That Bridge

We were having a tea 

I told my friend a silly fact; or just a 

plain icebreaker

That bridge been built and still they building 

It for a very long time

They tore it down and they rebuilding

It again. What bridge

That San Francisco bridge. He stopped

on a moment and think 

before he agreed 

While an old man floated in the mid air crunched it with his fist

As if he carried it toward Alcatraz 

That i nodded, 

Like here we go again. Buckled up

As far as I remembered

I had a spiral notebook with a picture

of this bridge. I can still remembered

It called, The Golden Gate

At the end of the year it was

Dog-eared and totally crushed 

The following school year

My mama bought another fresh dozen

Golden gate bridge notebook

With me protesting, I had this bunch

of DC heroes on my hand

Mama seldom speak, when we are in the crowd. She just looked at me coldly

And I put it back at the rack sourgraping

Mama is the tiger 

She had this style of,

 ‘through your eyes only’ the next thing

would be painful, you know what I mean

So I had the Golden gate all year round

Where she

Uncoiled the spiral binding 

and wove it with a blue yarn, it may not

easily worn out. 

To be honest, that 

Spiral notebook stand for years

Where I sketched Batman and Robin instead

Or stick man with a gun on his thin hand

with absurd bald head

Every time I saw that bridge on a movie

I couldn’t help myself to laughed like 

what we are doing 

Why they hated it most, I mean; 

that bridge, maybe because

it’s just a bridge and not made by gold

Then why they called it the Golden gate 

in the first place

I had no grudged with that bridge


while the rouge 

marches, trying to bombard it

with their

out of this world make believe talent.


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