the prodigal icecream man (NaPoWriMo 2020, day 30 and last)

The final challenge for National Poetry Writing Month, Day 30, is “Write a poem about something that returns.” In Arizona, that’s easy. The Ice Cream Man usually waits till Spring, and

the prodigal ice cream man

do the ice cream folk of the valley of the sun

hibernate? or do they attend symposia on mind control via

maddening repetitious music, or do they have to sabbaticalize

away from kids and/or stickiness for some

therapeutic silence?

don’t know. DO know

that our neighborhood guy is back, and I again wish

the culture would change and let him use a mix tape instead of that grotesque

“DAAA Da Dah dada daDA daDAA da [beat] Da DAA daDAA da [beat] Da DAA daDAA da [beat] DAAA Da Dah dada daDA daDAA da [beat] Da DAA daDAA da [beat] Da da DA da…dadadadaa. DadaDa DADADADAAAA!”

the upside is that he remembers me, and that my order is always for five generic fudgy-sickles, and he gets to keep the change.

we transact quickly, he smiles, I hold my catch by the wrapper-ends so they look a little like caught trout, and i go back to my apt,

open the freezer door, put four in, and then, like always,

decide to eat two instead of one.