Dad drives up to get me in the old Green and White Buick
His bronzed hands with their black wiry knuckle hairs
Trellis the steering wheel; turn us away from Manhattan toward Coney Island

Mustard splattered streets and
Puddles of stale beer
Spice this new briny day

Carnival barkers’ chant
“Knock ‘em down, win a clown!”
Dad tells me the game’s rigged
But, reaches into his baggy khakis; peels off a couple of bucks
We throw a few anyway

At Nathans, men wearing triangular paper caps
Slide hot dogs and cones of finger-lickin’ French fries to us
Across shiny silvered counters
I beg for a 7Up but dad spouts:
“Soda’s not good for kids, drink water”
And, when I do, he winks at me, says, “Now, that’s the ticket”

At the Carousel
The hurdy-gurdy music moves me up and down, around and around
Each time I pass him
Dad makes a different funny face

On the way back to the city
We belt union songs and show tunes
All the way to Mom’s

Gives me a kiss and the stuffed zebra we won
Then barrels down the road
Leaving me to wonder
How long until I get another slice of him?