She Might be a Ballerina
She might be a ballerina.
She is walking on six inch heels
and struts
like this is the way she was born.
She might be dancing the part of Dulcinea
circling the windmill
at the end of Golden Gate Park
with a dog named Don Quixote.
She might be a tattoo artist
carrying roses with her trombone.
She might be a student at the Conservatory,
or maybe she wakes up with her own music.
She might be busking for the sea lions
or tap dancing on a street car.
She blows a kiss to the driver
before she exits with her lavender tutu.
The sun is falling into a watery horizon
at the edge of the world.
Her music is red and shining.
The Golden Gate Bridge is her stage.
— Diane Frank
