Today is my birthday. I am 38.
Yesterday I was 12. I danced in the kitchen.
I picked flowers from my garden and I did a cartwheel
In front of 37 Lexington Street.
Tomorrow I will be 67. My arthritis will hurt.
My hip will be sore and I won’t be able to get up
After falling in the shower.
There is a band playing across the street.
Behind the Niagara Library.
Freedomfest. Music for everyone.
Just bring a blanket and an open heart.
Perhaps a few dance moves.
The Macarena was fun. I remember doing it
In the neighborhood of Buffalo’s Seville.
1996. When VH1 was way cooler, than www.youtube.com.
The American flag waves patriotically
Above the funnel cake stand.
It’s red, white and blue - rippling its patriotism
Much like the corn dog
That Manuella is eating, near plaid gingham summer dress
And a pair of canvas sneakers, worn at the left toe.
I don’t have any more candles.
The wax has melted into tears.
I must give a tearful farewell to my youth.
My cake has molded to green.
I see my reflection in the mirror of the glass.
It is a ghost.
