Street Ice Cream Stands

I 
favour all flavours,
You 
don’t care much for ice cream tastes.

You go to the counter with the creamy colours
blue cotton,
pink sky, 
orange, 
mango, 
strawberries…
It’s incredible how much the way you chose ice cream 
gives you away.

I’ve usually gone by raws,
Deciding that I’ll try this one now,
And then next time it’ll be the other,
and the other…
and the other…
Not because I didn't like the past tastes,
But because I wanted to know them all,
Not thinking of leaving any of the flavours untouched.

And through all those flavours I have perhaps rushed a little,
Yet I could say after every time - I did it. Tried this one too. Tick marked even?
Almost like it was some sort of a god-given responsibility to do justice to all, 
even the ones I didn’t think would be of good taste.

You don’t find such logic reasonable.
To you - an ice cream is an ice cream.
Tasty, maybe pleasant.
But no more than something you enjoy in the moment,
And yes,
You do admit it’s good to generally know what you like,
So you don’t pay for what ends up in disappointment.

You’d never linger on the ice cream shop
And write odes to its colours and shapes.
You’re not a crazy poet 
after all
you don’t have my paranoia of having to have tried every one of them.

In a way we’re opposites. In a way, we’re just the same.

What’s the difference between craving everything and nothing?

What I know is that as we stood there at the ice-cream stand,
You ordered vanilla,
and I went for salty caramel, rushing to get to dark chocolate next,
And we left the store,
accidentally standing side by side -
We looked at each other’s cones

Glazing on your cone I saw all your misery,
The never seizing apathy -
And looking at mine, you saw that which is hidden in my depths.
Ever repeating blindness -
Words were maybe spoken,
But what use is a word when your ice cream strips you naked?

Faithful to truth -
All this lasted much longer.
Yet the moment of recognition was a
split second
that I think happened very high up above the store and above the city.

Where it was just the two of us.
Deciding to quit eating ice cream.
It’s bad for your skin - we said.
We shared the liking of spicy foods.
Hot intense chilli peppers,
Chopped in pieces,
At the altars of no promises,
But with secret cravings for neverending aftertastes.

And I know,
Someday we’ll go back to our old patterns,
I, for the dark chocolate I never tried,
And you,
For your bland vanilla - white from all its ends

and every time at leaving the store
We’ll secretly hope to give ourselves away, 
once more,
As the cream melts on our bare hands,
secret lust for the days
When we decided to throw it all away
and for a moment felt no more need for the 
street ice cream stands.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s