Toledo > Bucyrus

When she was mighty, arms outstretched acrossed the Maumee, I thought I knew her well--but I was broke and smartmouthed and failing part time and living out of a PT Cruiser full time. At least it was brief, before it got cold. And a friend saved me. Her arms, too, were outstretched, and she quoted the mantra, "You will do better in Toledo." My smartmouth was chapped and thirsty but words came easily then. Gratitude, too. I floated down the river--down down down to my hometown. That was before my father died, before every flower in my heart crackled and blew away. Arms were closed, then, around the Sandusky. And I didn't hear any more words. No thank-you notes floated down the river, just debris, ripped receipts, old magazines. My dad might hum something while cleaning up after other people's mistakes. But that was all.