I loved to ride my Schwinn bicycle
I must have been only nine
I would ride it down to the pond
where I spent a lot of my time

I also loved a girl back then
She had a dog named Polar Bear
Of course it was white
until it was run over
by a school bus whose driver didn't care

I loved living in Florida
The salt air from
the ocean was  exhilarating
When I left the Sunshine State
I left a huge chunk
of my heart there

Now I am a hand in my pocket
Always reaching for something not there
Home is where you dry
your tears
But I've found no sleeve to wipe them on


If only we could put poems
in a bucket
then throw them onto a raging fire
Would the flames die out
or leap even higher .

But it seems words cost us nothing
More plentiful than the leaves of grass
Our lives have become instrumentals
Where there are no words to be found