Even after being scolded for making all of you late for
the class pizza party and dance, I’ll give you credit—
you emerged— rather, pranced in high tops from
the bedroom.

Chestnut pony tail— proud, green eyes sparking fierce dandelions— leading the parade of hormones— four
ten-year olds— strapless black taffeta dresses you’d

Dreamed of, designed, cut, sewn— your childhoods 
abandoned— tied in big red lace bows. Understanding
boys felt reluctant to slink behind, hands thrust deep in

Patched pockets, I joined the march— a dirge to a
waiting van. In dusk, sliding open the door— tumbling
in—singing, rollicking, barking for their lives.

Amid this commotion, doubting I could hold cold leather on
my wheel— or even keep cargo straight on such a road. Neighborhood street lamps had just turned on—

Their pale yellow glitter provided me with nothing.
Recalling the night— you were four— crying for
the light— oh, disappointment of electricity.

You’d seen lights of the city from a hill— convinced
they were diamonds of fairies —no one could ever
console you.

Through the red and green neon glare, whooping,
wordless, all piled out— leaving me dazzled, alone,
free? Not quite— my heart jumped— you knocked

Quite heartily on car window glass— a word? No—
money for the juke box—each quarter gleaming
silently— placed in yet extended hands.