7th Street Bridge

With Lions Heads

Hot were the days

Rode Stingray bike

Over blazing asphalt

Keeping eyes peeled

For lions head

Protectors

On the other side

Sad was the the train

Whistle

Pierced Big Valley

Night

63 Chevy wagon

Powers us home

Across the 7th Street bridge

Lions head sentinels

Nod in the darkness

Lions heads who kept

The boy who loved them

Safe

Yet they can’t protect the

Man

For they are marked for

Death

They are made of stone

But my heart is not

It is breaking.

Dear Reader: This was a bridge in Modesto California that was destroyed by my hometown in the name of progress.

I used to believe that the Lions heads were alive and that they protected me as I crossed.

It may have just been magical thinking but can we really be sure that’s all it was?

Somewhere I hope they are still in a dusty museum, or a warehouse, but I fear they are destroyed.

What price progress?