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Show 143 Provo trail, and I saw her standing up there as I approached. I had to hop a fence to climb up to it, but it was pretty easy because the post between the bridge and the chain link was tilted like an open crocodile mouth. The architecture of the bridge was a box girder style that created indentations on the bridge sides. There was a lot of paint up there, most of it pretty sloppy. It was probably a practice spot. There were large stenciled letters experimenting with paint texture and color. I liked the amateur quality because many of the words were easier to read. Amy and I talked up there for a while. We were waiting for a train, though I didn't know it. When we felt the rambling she said, Finally, let's go. She crouched in-between the indentations on the margins of the bridge. It was a tight space in there-horizontal steel was placed every five feet or so for stability. Come on, she said. I am longer than that, plus Amy was already in there. It was crowded and I didn't know her very well. Also, this seemed like a stupid and dangerous idea, but another part of me wanted to climb in there with her and listen for her heartbeat. So I squeezed in, my right shoulder between her arm and her ribs. I didn't know what to do with my hands so I just touched them to the rusty metal. Steel and Amy's body were above, below and to the side of me, but I could see the train tracks outside of our space and I scanned them for anything loose the train might knock into us when it passed. We felt the train rumble on reinforced steel and listened to its hom until it was in front of us. We closed our eyes. I opened mine after a few seconds. The |