Oak of the Golden Dream

The oak that used to watch
me twenty years ago was gone
one day.  Huge, it was, in
the middle of an onion field.
A friend in summer, a skeleton
of beauty in winter, home
to hawks and crows. There's a Lowe's
there now, where they sell
oak flooring, oak tables,
oak of every kind, except living.


The old covered train trestle
that watched over
the Santa Clara River
is gone, too.  I only just
noticed last week,
riding past the new
apartment complexes,
shopping centers,
and foreclosure signs
on my way to God knows where.

I wonder if they'll notice
when I'm gone, too.  Gone
to find the oaks, and bridges
and history that California
left behind.

Look away, look away, look away.