The approaching city trolley takes
me back to skipped school squeals
of rollercoasters when we held hands
and later crossed the plinking street
to the pizza joint where our coins
clinked and we let the pinballs fly.
Fingers on fingers on buttons and
we’d shake the game until we lit up
the Tilt. After the pie made its slide,
we couldn’t wait, burned our mouths
and with the gentlest kiss forgot
the burn of universities taking us
worlds apart; and now my stop
is near, the familiar place where
we could see forever from atop a loop
and I pull the cord to hear you laugh.
–
Richard L. Matta is originally from New York’s rustic Hudson Valley and now lives in San Diego, California. In his spare time, he enjoys spending time on or near San Diego Bay, and volunteering at Balboa Park.
© 2024, Richard L. Matta
Halfway Down the Stairs 