The safe people in casual
silk laughing in that almost-rich
suburban way. My sister
& I think they all own
sailboats & Cessnas. Have turquoise

swimming pools, eat
escargot with silver tooth
picks. We lack the suavity
to get by here, but we want to stick
around & pretend. Peek

into the windows of their tony
boutiques. Linger late
on the boulevard, eat chicken
schnitzel & sauerkraut 
at Stella’s. We spot

a vintage navy
Mercedes cruising
on cobblestone, squat
on a cast-iron bus
bench & wait for the street

lights to switch on. Their beams
shoot though amber globes,
circa-1926, form golden swirls
that dance in the air like pinwheel
ghosts. The 10:30 Steeltown

Express rolls up to the red
shingled bus stop & we shuffle
back to the elongated
leather bench seat, back
to our bedimmed home

town where, like hidden
jailbirds, we are, for
today, united. Soon
we will each run
in opposite directions.