Tag: Ice Cream

Gazing at Longevity Peaches

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this is that poem, the one where the writer visits a museum, stares for a long time, tries to transcribe, translate, imbibe one artform into another, so here i am, san francisco, qi baishi, his peaches, better than super mario bros., ty cobb, safeway’s produce section, sickly sweet del monte in a can, better than ice cream, shout out sarah mclachlan, maybe not better than ice cream, but i’ve never seen frozen dessert so delectably hung on a wall, and to think he lived (1864) & died (1957) fully immersed in art, the way i want to swim in letters, inspiring, the colors, the colors, spheres, juice-filled suns on earth, made by human hands, human hands.

Homeless Ice Cream

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every morning i drive by ben & jerry’s
haight-ashbury, hippie history 
he sleeps on sticky stairs 
remnants of mint chocolate chip, the
sugary smell underneath sleeping bag
comforts his drunk, drugged out body 
pressed against concrete like
ice cream against waffle cone, but
this isn’t dessert, i think 
of the hundreds of tourists’ feet
smiling, licking 
walking on his bed

While You Are Watching Netflix

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he is pondering the sound of crickets, he swims outside every night, listening to the rubbing of wings, chirps, we call them, mating sounds, darkness attraction, he has noticed the transition from october to december, dissipating insects, a little less with each cold night, moon fattens, sheds light, then gradually disappears, grows full again, & all the while you are indoors, scrolling through trending & top picks for you, top 10 movies, looking for answers, a way to kill time, exist, alone, or with ice cream, your screen escape, watching drama, violence, comedy, night after night, hoping for something good, something that matters, meanwhile, he’s outside contemplating dusk, counting stars as they appear in the sky, you ask, why? he pauses to reflect, each evening is different, is his reply.

Of Love and Madrid

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her curfew midnight, i sprinted the summer streets of madrid. by metro and taxi, she, an hour away, then an hour back across the capital city. 16 years old, when i could run and sweat, 94 degrees dripping down my cheeks. it didn’t matter, because i always stood by the open window of the metro train, hot air drying everything except the pounding blood in my chest, and i hardly knew it, but this was love. arriving, eyes aglow, to stroll on an ancient moorish pathway, share a morsel of ice cream. 12am, taxi, underground train, back to carabanchel, the far reaches of madrileńo civilization. never a second thought that i would do it all over the next night.  

Autumn at Bledsoe Creek

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I regularly go on “Adventure Days” with my son in areas surrounding Nashville. A great one is: hike the High Ridge Trail at Bledsoe Creek State Park, have lunch at Swaney Swift’s on the Square (in Gallatin), visit Towne Square Records & Comics, then get ice cream at The Ice Cream Social.

Links here: https://tnstateparks.com/parks/bledsoe-creek https://www.swaneyswifts.com/ https://townesquarerecordsandcomics.com/ https://icecreamsocialreviews.com/