Licked an ice cream cone
As we walked across a bridge.
I loved you even though I didn’t know you.
The bridge was rickety,
Swaying in the Pacific’s winds.
They pushed against our amusement and the fraying wood panels,
Through it’s conspicuous holes dotting the worn out footpath.
The saccharine cream melted quickly,
Prey of the blazing sun hounding high above our heads.
It dripped a steady dribble down the air-puffed cone
And the side of my palm.
In between my fingers,
Sticky and permanent.
I wonder how many ice cream cones we could share?
That first one, so far South.
Repeated in holographic dazzle…
In my heart within yours too?
You got sick from the sweet.
Plopped the pink swirl upside-down on a concrete post but encouraged me to keep on-
You would watch infinitely.
After the bridge our legs wanted more,
But not walking.
They longed for another direction,
My mouth craved the taste of yours,
Or the sugar leftover,
In small temptations throughout the surrounding air.
I could see them
As clearly as your blue eyes.
They danced on the sides of our afternoon stroll
And shadowed our trail in strange familiarity.
More liquid than firm-
With one last lick with flat tongue I launched the treat over the bridge
Onto a sobering pile of terrible rocks and trash.
It flew like my inhibitions and landed like my
Gutted fish belly would a day later when I ran down the street after you,
Hugged by only a pink sarong,
To tell you Goodbye.
What did you put in my ice cream?
I have not
Licked a cone since or seen a
Blonde head framing a set of crazy passion,
Seen a neon colored tank top,
Or smelled the Pacific
Without hoping to pick up your trace scent,
Without feeling that stickiness in between my fingers
Or the earth swaying below me
As if I were balancing on a bridge.