We were talking about childhoods filled with Italian Ices
and other things;
The best were lemon ice that were white like snow
and never looked like dog piss.
They were in expandable cups like they put mustard
and ketchup in these days.
Each cup had two scoops
and oh yes, lemon was the best.
You’d squeeze the goodness up to the top
and then expand out the cup
Like a stretched out accordion
and lick the rest with cat-tongue motions. I have been watching snow all day now
and how intimately close the flakes come
one to another, or far apart, or on a slant, or like dust
and with just a turn of the head it changes.
Every once in a while I remember the spread out lemon ice cup
and licking up the last bit of ices–
a paper ground, a snow covered ground,
and my eyes lick snowflakes
while drinking almond flavored water
and wishing you’d send me roses–white roses.