(47th & Liberty , 1950’s)
I rode my birthday gift
the year I turned seven
really believing
I could fly
on the back of a red scooter
closing my eyes
down the steep hill
on 47th Street
past the corner grocery
where the dishwater blond
in a man’s undershirt
helped her parents
stack potatoes
and from inside the window
winter or summer
was always waving goodbye.