After your dad drops us off by Boston Store in the van you write all the lyrics you know to that Ratt song on my jeans in permanent marker, “Round and round, what comes around goes around, I tell you why” and my mom will be so mad, those pants cost thirty dollars at Ups ‘N Downs on the east end of Regency Mall near Aladdin’s Castle but a hike away from Orange Julius, Hot Sam, Kay-Bee Toys. The central fountain across from Wick ‘n Sticks flows warm water, tossed coins, quarters of wishes, the Original Cookie Company smells good, the kids in charge make jokes about the scared fiancees kitty-corner buying diamonds, gold chains by the inch at the open-air jeweler next to Sears, close enough to Wilson’s Leather to touch wallets, pants, purses of tanned hide, one skylight shines on Chick-Fil-A, the waffle fries in everyone’s mouths, Ice Dream in Styrofoam cups, chicken on toothpicks, your Swatch watch stops, we miss the bus, tuck our pants legs into our high-top Converse, wait for it to come again.