Chant the ice cream mantra.
Prance the do dah day ballet.
Trot the t-bone tango two-step.
Dance the livelong day away.
Spout the heady hipster lingo.
Sing that breathy beat-box rhyme.
Skip the trippy light fantastic.
Mother, may I have a dime?
The time we've waited for is here
The truck of frosty treats draws near.
The dime is yours to spend my dear.
The frosty sparkling spear of
Living in the now will sweetly melt
Upon our tongues and these and
Those and thou doth sweetly cool
The summer's heat.
Go! Pay the piper now!
I remember mama, the dime, and the anticipation of the ice cream man coming down the street. You capture it perfectly here in your poem.*
Your playful rhyme scheme here suits the subject perfectly.
Particularly like:
"Spout the heady hipster lingo.
Sing that breathy beat-box rhyme."
Can't help but smile
all the while.
Hey, did you ever find a publisher for Hobo Junction? That story has really stayed with me.
Thanks JMC! I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. I dig that it worked for you.
Hi Sally, Thanks for taking the time to read and comment on "The Ice Cream Mantra". I'm glad you liked it. I've not yet found a publisher for "Hobo Junction" but with it I have collected rejection letters from some of the finest rags out there. And some not so fine. I reckon it simply hasn't crossed the right editor's desk yet!
Fun. Cool. Tastes like ice cream on my eyes as I read.
Hi Megan, Thanks for reading and commenting. I'm glad you liked it!