By Bob Dougherty
a nice day to walk by the bay
then suddenly in front of a bench
pointing straight at the Golden Gate
a silver slipper and I breathe — Lana
like in the Poem I read last night
stopping staring I can see her
the tingling the caress so surreal
No Lana — I shake my head and turn
to see the Golden Gate Bridge collapse
into silver fog like platinum blond hair
streaming over the Marin Headlands
I look at the silver slipper pointing
it’s just a lost shoe I yell inside
under a warm blue California sky
the tingling the caress start again
No Lana — this isn’t real please don’t
the warm breeze blows the silver fog
slowly back from the land undraping
the Marin Headlands bare for the sun
until the last strands vanish at sea
I turn away then spin to look
the silver slipper isn’t there
the tingling the caress are gone
Oh Lana — I’m sorry please come back
a nice day to walk by the bay
then suddenly in front of a bench
pointing straight at the Golden Gate
a silver slipper and I breathe — Lana
like in the Poem I read last night
stopping staring I can see her
the tingling the caress so surreal
No Lana — I shake my head and turn
to see the Golden Gate Bridge collapse
into silver fog like platinum blond hair
streaming over the Marin Headlands
I look at the silver slipper pointing
it’s just a lost shoe I yell inside
under a warm blue California sky
the tingling the caress start again
No Lana — this isn’t real please don’t
the warm breeze blows the silver fog
slowly back from the land undraping
the Marin Headlands bare for the sun
until the last strands vanish at sea
I turn away then spin to look
the silver slipper isn’t there
the tingling the caress are gone
Oh Lana — I’m sorry please come back