ice cream

First, you must choose.
Stare through the clear glass at flavours of different colours
with swirls and chunks of brown and red and beige.

You realise it doesn't really matter now you've decided to have one--
the calories are more or less the same.

You ask to taste that one, and that one, and would keep on going
but stop yourself just in time at two
or else you'd end up tasting all, not getting any,
and pissing off the girl with the scoop.

Very Berry's lighter than Nutella, which you've not tasted in a while
and though you're still feeling quite full from lunch
H and Z are waiting so you should probably just choose.

You always get a cone.
It's funner that way:
It melts itself into the hollow
and peeps up when you think you're done--
"hello, I'm here too!"—
and slides down your tongue.

Outside, the afternoon sun melts it extra fast
and the sweet stickiness smoothens itself
down the dabbled brown...
one lick and it's gone.