Ice Cream Man

Squat cracker box truck
with art deco lettering,
and a bell that's as bent and twisted
as the driver.

Rosie
has always been old,
horse leather face
creased like a dry river bed,
and one eye squeezed shut,
" He got lime in it"
that's the rumor,
now we eye the yard markers on the football field with fear.

A dense monkey of a man,
ears jut out like mug handles
under a soiled grey cloth cap,
(no ones ever seen him without it)
and there's something obscene
about the way he jingles his hands in his apron
while making change.

But he has talent born of his devotion

No matter what you asked for
he'd open one of two vault like doors,
keeping his good eye on you
his gnarled arm would plunge into
the foggy depths
and pull it out,
first try every time,
like a wizard.

Italian ice,strawberry shortcake
push ups and hoodsies,
chocolate éclairs and frozen charleston chews
ice cream sandwiches,root beer popsicles
Turkish taffy,sundae cups,circus cones with the hidden bubblegum ball.

A paper wrapped wooden spoon torn from an endless sausage like chain.

So much happiness
dispensed
by the unsmiling troll
with arthritic hands.

We could never say thank you
to that eye.