I met a man on the Ocean Road and he said 
Can you spare a little salvation? But I can't.   
So he runs down the beach with his bag for the night. 
   
Heading home, my apartment looms on a vacant sea  
With it's eternity of empty windows  
That man already no more than a grain of sand. 
   
I kick the television when I get home  
Frisbee CDs into the cool December wind  
And wish I'd asked that man for the thing I couldn't give.