(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.


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