He saw the Mona Lisa on
      an ancient wooden power pole
      one San Francisco chilly day,

Surrounded by a murky fog,
      a thing of strange consistancy,
      a soft translucent wall of air

Pushed aside his probing hand,
      he tried but could not touch the child,
      still smiling through five hundred years.

A crowd assembled, curious
      at his pale arms grabbing air,
      "What are you doing?", asked a girl.

"Don't you see?", the man replied,
      "Her face, her lips, her guile and charm,
      the slyness in her gentle grin?"

A boy, quite small, ran to the post,
      and said, "I see a poster there.
      It says, 'Reward for my lost cat!'"

They smiled and laughed, not at the man
      but just the gentle joke of it,
      as thickening fog spread round about.

He turned and moved into the crowd,
      now silent, gray as lumps of clay,
      they fade into the darkened day,

While, down the street, the boy cried soft,
      "Here, kitty, kitty! Here, kitty kitty!"
      The man, alone, remained distraught.
      
He turned and faced the splintered post,
      which smelled of creosote and tar,
      and saw that she remained aloft,

She smiled at him and knew his soul,
      his secrets, sins, and failed loves --
      naked, though still clothed, he shrugged,

He walked away, his eyes held low,
      and, guided by low booming horns,
      he found himself at water's edge,

And took the ferry waiting there
      across the cold and choppy bay 
      to an empty house so far from her.