When I was nine
Aunt Betty piled us into the Buick
and drove us unbelted
to the lakefront, where Ferris wheels
and roller coasters overlooked
the levee and stared out to sea.
Stem-heated in pigtails
and pedal-pushers and red Keds,
we rode the high-rise whiplash
and Cindy laughed so hard
she wet her pants and Aline’s eyes
grew big as the Creole moon,
and I went back three times . . .
–excerpt from “Pontchartrain Beach” in To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 20011). First published in Mid-America Poetry Review.