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  • A busty Dutch broad on a Zeedijk stage was singing Geef Mij Maar Amsterdam.

    The crowd was leaning shoulder-to-shoulder under the orange streamers, strung from crooked gables.

    I didn't see you push your big black bike over the slick cobblestones, broken beer bottles, trampled confetti.

    Our friend in common walked out of the Barderij with another glass of cheap prosecco and said, "Oh! Here's Todd."

    I turned right 180 degrees to meet you. Your hat brim pulled down, your eyes curious, a bemused melancholy about your mouth.

    "Oh!" thought I. "Of course."
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