The Ice Cream Man is Coming

I watched your head roll off your body and down the dark stairwell and through the open door, down the front stoop, through the garden, past the gate, and into the middle of the street where it was promptly squashed by an ice cream truck speeding through our neighborhood.

I watched you chase after your head, stumbling and fumbling.

I watched, from our window, as you held your head’s pulpy remains in your lap, chest heaving up and down, unable to cry, unable to wail, but still able to shake an angry fist toward the fading echos of mulberry bushes.

The Ice Cream Man is Coming

10 thoughts on “The Ice Cream Man is Coming

Sock it to me

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