We’re almost back to our street
but I can’t go home yet.
On Broadway:
an OPEN sign.
Celestial Treasures.
Dad calls it a woo-woo store, full of New Age junk.
April and I pause,
chimes and crystals rainbow,
tiny unicorns and fairies
freckle purple felt.
I want to reach
through the store window,
sit there, play
with the creatures.
Tell April to be the tallest unicorn,
I will be the fairy who just earned her wings.
Who cares what Dad thinks?
Push open the door,
a shrill woman’s voice whinnies
over the sound of bagpipes,
April and I smile at each other,
move further in.
We flip through Goddess Tarot Cards.
Sniff jasmine, sandalwood, eucalyptus.
Spy rows of medicinal herbs, vitamins.
Try on mood rings,
look up our birthdays on charts.
There’s a huge star map,
like Mr. Lamb’s,
but this one’s exploding colors and pictures:
myths that explain the names of constellations.
I read to April,
point out each planet.
But when I turn around,
she’s near a woman
with auburn hair
and lilac scarves.
Her name is Gloria,
she can help us,
if we need anything.
April moves toward her,
I pick up a rain stick.
April now
on the other
side of the store,
light as a leaf,
happy she said
with what our family’s
become.
I shake the stick
the sound pours over me
like being trapped inside
a waterfall—
April: on one side,
out of reach—
Me: on the other,
enclosed in a pounding curtain of rain.