The first day
late in spring
that could be
called warm
the ice cream cart
peddled by
some old man
rang bells—
this is before
ice cream trucks
with recorded
music blaring—
and hearing
those bells
I went outside
to walk a few blocks
for the purpose
of dropped change
or soda bottles
to turn in
to the gas station—
back when bottle return
got you a dime
per bottle—
and then I would run
not walk
to the cart
which had moved
to a different street
or over to the ball field
in Memorial Park
and pray
orange Dreamcycles
were still
in the cart.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 