I always feel one thing

for greater things
like memories of Red Sox games at Fenway Park
and eating half-melted peach iced cream on a wooden dock
watching fireworks on the bicentenial.

for truer things
like the smell of bubble gum on a late afternoon
and the feel of bare feet running through fresh cut grass
while chasing a little pink sponge ball

for louder things
like gingerale bubbles in a thunderstorm
and Mississippi's counted one at a time
in New England.