Onion rings as a child. And how I love them now.
I mean if anyone were to ever make them for me
but they don’t. Sometimes I look at Saturn and wonder
what it might look like without onion rings, and
whether or not Saturn tastes yummy, and
who, of course, would eat the onions. Sometimes

I even think I am Saturn, and my rings are solid
and doing well, drawn a hundred years ago by
a blind child who drew a spaceship in
the sand.