Selected Poems
Tolls
We go back to our beach, though pine barrens burn.
A pocketful of tolls jingle now as double down dimes.
Somethings never change but refuse to stay the same.
Slowing down to a roll from double nickels.
Hitting each toll booth back board basket
jump shot sure, to raise an orange ban bar.
The green light lets you go.
No matter day or night or time of year
We walk to the sand, just stand and believe
and make sure a working ocean is still there.
Change came in handfuls and fistfuls. Coins
fall to the floor, from empty pocketed pants
draped at the end of our summertime bed.
The yellow porch light burns in our memory.
