The Ring

It seems as though

the ring

is a snowy morning full of whiteness,

gleaming like the driver

flashing his headlights.

Like a slick patch

of black ice awaiting a touch

and a spaghetti noodle sliding into your mouth

in a fluid motion.

Catching attention

like the sound of slot machines

in an overcrowded casino

and a silver moon

on a late summer night.

A delicate porcelain doll

in a glass case

and a new penny

being put into a little girl's hand.