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To New York with Gram When I Am Twelve
by
Tere Sievers


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Your good coat is black wool
with a red fox collar.
My dress is pink nylon
with rhinestone buttons.
We are dressed up that Saturday
you take me to New York.
 
We ride the bus to the City,
walk from Port Authority
to the Automat for lunch.
There you change
a dollar into nickles,
hand them all to me.
 
Glass doors pop open
as nickles drop into the slots,
four nickles for red Jello,
seven nickles for lemon meringue pie.
One taken, one replaced.
Here you could never go hungry.
 
After lunch we stand in line,
buy tickets for the matinee
at Radio City Music Hall,
seats close enough
to see the red shoes
of the Rockettes
kick in time to the music.
They dance before Cinderella,
the feature movie.
 
After the show
we ride the bus back home.
It smells like diesel fuel.
I am almost sick.
You turn off the seat light.
We sit in the dark.
I fall asleep
dancing with the prince.
 
© by Tere Sievers.
Used with the author’s permission.
Purchase a framed print of this poem.

Tere Sievers, originally a Jersey girl, lives in Long Beach, California, and works as a psychotherapist. Eating tomatoes from her garden is one of her great delights, as well as visiting her vagabond sister in various tropical climes. For the enjoyment of the children in her life, she has published a book of children's poems, Blueberry Pancakes and Monkey Pajamas; three other poems will be included in the Green Anthology, forthcoming in March from Silver Birch Press.


Post New Comment:
sharon:
What a lovely stroll - i could almost hear the Rocketts stomping on the stage. Yes, even the diesel fumes. The vagabond sister.
Posted 02/28/2013 03:03 PM
barbara eknoian:
I'm with you on your journey to NYC, the show and back. Great poem!
Posted 02/24/2013 12:20 PM
barbara eknoian:
I'm with you on the bus to New York City, and back. Great poem!
Posted 02/24/2013 12:18 PM
barbara eknoian:
I'm with you on the bus to New York City, and back. Great poem!
Posted 02/24/2013 12:18 PM
lisa honecker:
I only went once to the Automat, but what an experience. This poem brings back such a happy experience with my Aunt Helen. Lisa Honecker
Posted 02/23/2013 02:04 PM
KevinArnold:
Very nice, the specificity of "four nickles for red Jello, seven nickles for lemon meringue pie." brings the reader right into the automat. I take it as a reminder to do more for the children in my life . . .
Posted 02/23/2013 01:07 PM
Joe Sottile:
A journey into youth and limitless dreams...Bravo!
Posted 02/23/2013 12:50 PM
dotief@comcast.net:
Lovely!
Posted 02/23/2013 10:41 AM
lafayette:
Thank you for your poem in YDP. It made me think of rides with Daddy. Maybe I will write a poem about that even though I cannot match yours.
Posted 02/23/2013 10:15 AM
loisflmom:
Thanks, Tere. If I were a poet, this might have been one of MY poems, so close it is to one of my memories (minus the diesel fumes!)
Posted 02/23/2013 09:32 AM
loisflmom:

Posted 02/23/2013 09:30 AM
erinsnana:
I love, love, love this poem!! Such memories!!
Posted 02/23/2013 06:53 AM


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