tunes and bells and quiet urgency
the midnight ice cream truck turns on
Belleview and Mississippi and Lakeside
it passes one AM and stops for no one

you run after it because you are curious
or perhaps you want a popsicle
the midnight ice cream truck stops once
and you round the side. breathing

hard and wrapping your hands around
your stomach. three blocks is tough
when its one AM and you had no idea
an ice cream truck was up too.

“isn’t that funny” they say and then
“what do you want” and you don’t
remember what it was you were
craving. but the driver has already

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reached back. did you speak? did you

order the right thing? why does

the midnight ice cream truck driver

have a face that you forget as soon as

 

they turn around and there is a

red white and blue popsicle. the shittiest

kind. it is exactly what you wanted.

“how much is it” and “how much is what?”

 

and “the ice cream, of course” and

your pockets are empty of course

and the mystery face smiles while

tipping their ice cream truck hat

 

the truck makes no noise turning on

North. there is only the tight music

from the speaker glued to the top of

the midnight ice cream truck.

 

the popsicle is sweet. and shitty.

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