As my children come home from school,
With catalogues tucked under their tiny arms
Full of cookies and candles to sell
To earn twenty cent prizes.
I’m reminded of that year in my youth,
all the orders of chocolates,
solid and filled,
marzipan and macaroons
that you sold—father
to the factory workers
on your delivery route in Queens.
The grand prize was a ten speed;
Handle bars wrapped with silver tape,
electric horn, speedometer,
Its shiny red frame glistened
In the spotlight of the Temples display case.
I wanted it so ...