Marino's Sky Blue

I remember waiting in the sun.

For the ice cream truck. The jingly song.

Two quarters pressed against me,
     
         scotch-taped above my ankle,
               
                   under my sock.

I'm waiting for my Sky Blue Italian Ice,

That I will scrape into my mouth with a flat wooden stick.



Now it's later.

Blue skies and the sound of the ice cream truck.

And I'm waiting for you. Mind drifting away.

You're the popsicle.
And I lick you up in the heat.

Our tongues. Our lips. Our sticky smiles.
Everything turns to blue raspberry sweetness.

And you taste sky blue.
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*Note: This is a shortened and re-worked version of Summertime Ice Cream