roller rink ghosts 

we laid on our stomachs 
to peer underneath the rink.
there was a legend a man lived there
with a tree bark face & a rabid dog. 
a wooden jungle of boards & bombs.
what are you doing friday night?
the disco ball that came like
a second sun. a new god. 
here the light is faeried
& fickle. beams across your teeth.
i loved all girls on roller blades.
their knees like ripe peaches.
my face, a bowl of soup.
summer had enough hair for all of us.
willow tree with the missing arm.
the squirrels with their girlfriends
in the oak trees. i sat on a swing
away from the thrum of the rink.
swayed back & forth & pretended 
i was a cherry. the pit in me
rolled back & forth. ponytail-lifed girls.
the smell of cucumber melon.
i waited for the park to empty.
baseball field lights casting
long & wandering shadows.
the rink went dark. a husk of spiral.
around & around. i always felt like
a solar system inside there. 
i went alone to peer beneath 
in the july dark. for a moment 
i thought i saw a pair of eyes.
the man or else maybe just 
a lost glance? a pilfered stare 
i wished to cast at all the girls.
their beautiful nights wrapped up
& carried away in ribbons & syrup.
the night bugs laughed. the man 
benweath the rink laughed & 
i took my shadow with me 
to begin the walk home across 
the street lamp lit town.