Imagine that the Golden Gate Bridge has skin and bones,

walks among us as the one true San Franciscan


He knows all the secrets of the city

that no one else even bothered to listen to


Each cyclist trickling across the road tickles his side 

as he sweats out the location of every seagull's nest


Cars' constant braking and burning rubber

leave tire-track tattoos over his spine


He never gets wrinkles or acne

Though the years pass on


And though he is in the sun all day, he never tans

His body grows slowly paler with each huff of sea spray


His breath rushes out in a cloud over the bay

His mischievous face appears in the

background of every tourist vacation photo


He shakes whenever there is a storm.

He can't help it.

Earthquakes terrify him.


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