PICKING THE LOCK ON THE DOOR TO PARADISE

You probably won't believe this but I
am in San Francisco on the corner of
Lombard and Van Ness on the seventh
floor of a hotel overlooking the
Golden Gate Bridge teaching a tall
dark handsome poet to dance the fox
trot to Frank Sinatra's "Our Love Is
Here to Stay" and he won't do a thing
I say, won't let me lead, won't watch
my feet, won't agree I'm a better dancer
because I was a go-go dancer for seven
years, he says he could dance the fox
trot if he wanted to, afterall he can
boogaloo to the Doors' "L.A. Woman"
but he doesn't want to dance the fox
trot and when I laugh, he doesn't, he
sits down next to the window, sips beer
and peers out at the Bridge and I don't
give a damn if he ever learns to dance
the fox trot, the waltz, cha-cha, or
the Charleston, because he is a tall
dark and handsome poet, we are in San
Francisco peering out at the Golden Gate
Bridge that is disappearing into a
sunset fog, and our love is here to stay.


Joan Jobe Smith
Long Beach, CA