The Golden Gate
Two young kids drove a screwdriver
into the ignition of a car to steal
the thing. Later, they abandon it
outside our house on Park Blvd.
My wife watches them sprint down
the street from our living room, alone
in a new Oakland. She phones me
at work, speaks to me in whispers,
so low that I hardly understand her.
What if she knows?
That I am sad
my surrender to
the Golden Gate.