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i spent summer days floating, 
hidden in the neighbor’s in-ground pool,
where i paddled with no noodle,
my digits pruney with chlorine.

dirt angels formed beside a baseball dugout, 
splayed arms and legs moved in unison, 
blue skies above the neighborhood. 
my nails bitten and full of earth.

the library was five minutes by bike. 
sometimes i dozed in the periodical room 
among air-conditioned bookshelves 
or flipped through pages with chapped thumbs

on command i was a: dolphin, pink power ranger, 
silent wallflower with a soccer ball
pacing around the backyard. 
with tiny fists unafraid to meet rusted wire fence.

must have gone through thousands of boxes 
of blueberry toaster strudel. i’d go out,
with sticky hands, to knock on houses.
and i’d wave with my innocent frosting fingers.

Ruthie Barakat

back when the world was within walking 
distance,