Ice Cream Trucks

When I was young the mere sight

Of an ice cream truck forced me out of

The box and the big blue house

And I would run out clinging to a hot pink

Wallet filled with an allowance I never deserved to get

Some overpriced sugary thing that looked like a cartoon.

And when I finally got it and the underpaid high schooler

Told me goodbye and my mom made sure I wouldn’t drop

Anything in the middle of the hot Wisconsin streets,

I didn’t realize that the dots of blue would one day

Resemble that watch band around your wrist

And a song that I can recite from memory.

When ice cream trucks became traps for children

And my school colors faded from blue to red to green,

I dropped my pink wallet in a swell of stuff I never threw away,

In the boxes of pity party invitations and pictures from the eighth grade.

But soon enough I found muted colors in that white and blue window on

The screen of a magical sensation the size of a strawberry

That would steal both our souls and would force us together

Like hydrogen in the heart of a sun.

As if one day the other was bored and we decided we didn’t hate each other.

We became half a dozen allusions to songs

That we would send to each other via bytes and keystrokes

And desperate attempts to try to nail some stereotype on

The other before the summer came to a close.

And I remember only two days before Peter Pan

Whisked me away to Neverland that I finally could

Punch in numbers into a slide-out keyboard and

Put a voice to the digital characters on the screen.

And as the tunes and colors of local ice cream trucks

Changed we traded numbers of syllables

That we only exchanged on the stair rails on a

University hill. A university hill that saw a

Group of crazy teenagers trying to make a statement

In fourty-nine hours or less. We would laugh for months

Afterward and maybe we’ll never know if it was a good idea

For me to drag you in.

And was it ever okay for you to drag me in with

Chocolates and Sour Patch Kids and the one time

I got to wear a hat you loved so much and care for a

Stuffed animal that shouldn’t have meant anything to me

But meant an awful lot to you.

Would it ever be okay for me to text five people

In hopes that the new boy at school wouldn’t fall for the

Straggly kid from Wisconsin who never so much

Did more for him than sit there and put up with his shit.

And would it ever be okay for you to pull me in with

A dead iPod and a dance that never made sense

And a pick up line that would require seven EXPO

Markers for me to scribble out of my head only for

The thought to be written back over in red.

And I just want to grab your hand and keep it

Warm before you decide to write anything else,

So you can know that I would not be

The heartbreaker this time around.

Maybe the tune changed too much and

I should leave that pink wallet

In the trash because it reminds me too

Much of the cotton candy swatch of color

I stole from you when you weren’t looking.

I promised you nothing. All I have left is

A curly number one and a love interest to

A girl that may not even exist.

I still listen to the songs.

I still read the magical blue and

White box that I never see pop up.

And maybe one day I’ll know that you know

About the chimes of the ice cream truck that

Will never see me the same way again.