Last year, believe it or not
I got some tax money back.
I bought a bike to lose weight . . .
It sits in the shed . . . weeping.

Two years ago I bought skies.
Everybody bought skies.
They’re in the basement
pointing to heaven.

Three years ago a travel agency
offered the cheapest flights.
Seven days in the sunny Bahamas:
it rained the whole week.

Four years ago I wept
when skeleton bodies
of famine – stricken children
were shown on television . . .

I have a moth-balled suit in the closet,
a bike with flat tires in the basement,
skis that have been used only once,
and the memory of a worthless holiday.

Once my race has been run,
shall heaven’s gate open wide?