Through the dime store window I found you:
the ring of orange and pink,
a child’s oculus,
the only antidote
to boredom. Mom was at the salon.
I walked up and down Main Street—
past the sticker store, the sandwich shop,
the steel bridge painted red.
How I would will your orbit around my sun!
Your path would be uneven and short.
I would laugh.
Your crooked circles would fall
below my knees to my ankles
and threaten my next step.
I could bend down and pick you up.
You could spin again.
I was seven and looking for a good time.