My friend’s cousin’s name was Becky. She
lived in Ottumwa, wore sneakers and a ponytail.

Each summer she’d ride the year-end school bell
into town, radiating an aura of balloon

races and farrowing. Once, I think,
she touched my arm.

‘Cecelia’ reminds me of her, still. Not because
she broke my heart, but because I made her laugh.