Saturday at the park is like the circus
Neely went to with her dad.
Children flip
like acrobats
across the trampled lawn.
A line of grown-ups jumps through hoops
to get some extra food.
Neely's lip gloss, like candy floss,
goes unnoticed by her mother, busy
talking to her friends about the clowns
running the government.
But Neely leaps across
the sidewalk cracks,
waiting
waiting
waiting
for the Hatman,
the dancing man,
who always makes her laugh,
the way her dad once did.
She hears a faint familiar beat
from up the street. The radio sings: Boom Boom He's coming soon
Boom Boom He's coming soon
She wants to impress him,
straightens sundress straps,
combs fingers through summer hair,
hopscotches past
women in worn shoes, past
men in faded shirts, past
empty carts and shopping bags
and curtsies to the Hatman.
The wind nips at the coattails
of his tattered, torn tuxedo.
He tips his hats towards her.
Hello, she says, hello.
I must be in heaven, Miss Neely McRobbins.
You look like an angel.
Would you care to dance?
Radio still singing,
the crowd forms a ring.
They surf and spin,
they laugh, they grin,
they whirl and swirl and twirl until
it’s time to fill the bags.
Until next Saturday,
Neely will dream of dancing
like she used to dream of going
to the circus
with her dad.
Illustration by Kathryn Shoemaker
Read by Ginger Mullen
