Golden Gate

Golden Gate, swaying in the summer wind,
A favored suicide site,
Lies waiting for the anniversary party.
A 50th many will attend.

Cursing myself for attending a celebration
That starts too early for serious drinking,
And ranks as the largest, most crowded,
Party ever held.

Fog, summers curse, adds to my discomfort.
A mile from the great span.
I'm stunned by our growing number,
All intent on attending a secular mass.

More than most, this bridge
Serves as a tourist destination
And a suicides termination.
But today it is a shrine.

Moving very slowly, crowded between
Grey beards and red heads, city and country.
I know some have come to steal,
Others to bring the good news.

Children demand “Carry me!”, “Are we there yet?”
Teens and tweens, enjoying the music
Marveling at the crowd size,
Are losing bravado.

Slowing to a crawl, I consider reversing course
Until I notice thousands behind me,
With banners and “T” shirts announcing,
“We’re Golden”.

Scuffling, we inched onto the great bridge.
Smiles tempered by the recognition
That we were not a jolly band of hundreds or thousands,
Destined to share the sun and dance.

Standing mid-bridge, feeling cold
Aware, very aware of the altitude.
A vibration and a sway,
An unhappy giant displeased at its burden

Imagine an island sitting low in the open ocean
When the first waves crash accompanied
By a strong and accelerating wind.
Too late the islanders recognize what is upon them.

Vacuum packed, stumbling with each sway,
Small children, unhappy, needing a bathroom.
Neither balloons or bands
Lift their spirits.

“Time to go”, I think
But find the wall of celebrants unmovable.
Noises emanate from our host.
Stressed and fatigued, the structure is failing.

Panic time,. 500 thousand look for exits,
Available to those nearest the shore,
Not so, for the half crushed mid-bridge,
Wild eyed and screaming.


Catastrophes don’t always impact the poor,
They were underrepresented in the collapse.
A generation will pass before
Some will be able to outlive their nightmares.