The bookbag on my back. I'm out the door.
Winter turns to spring
The way it does, and I buy dresses.
A year later, it gets to where
When they say How are you feeling,
With that anxious look on their faces,
And I start to tell them the latest
About my love life or my kids' love lives,
Or my vacation or my writer's block-
It actually takes me a while
To realize what they have in mind-
I'm fine, I say, I'm great, I'm clean.
The bookbag on my back, I have to run.