Getting Out of the Fish Bowl

Sidewalk puddles

Of the city, the rumor of birds

On the ears of steel rails.

In spring, the robins are first,

In the yards, in the lots,

Even before the worms.

I write

Little poems

Open to interpretation.

Taxi cabs are wisdom.

So are basketball hoops

Screwed to the garage.

And in our glass lives

The outlines

Of light and the sea.

6 thoughts on “Getting Out of the Fish Bowl

  1. Been itching for a new poem here. You’re such a strong finisher. I had a teacher once say that the 3 most important parts of a poem are the title, first line, and last line.


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