Shiny Hot Days

On shiny hot days When the temperature seemed always to slip From hard, dry heat To clammy manufactured breeze And back again; My grandmother would bring me to the park To trade in sticky furniture For grass cushions And slipcovers of shade

When high noon drew its sword And shadows fled, The ice cream truck would roll in like a knight. I liked a vanilla cone, The scoop curving upwards like a mosque above brittle pastry.

But one shiny hot day When the cone slipped and dripped down my arms And my grandmother rummaged in her purse for napkins- I lost my love for vanilla When Splat!

The disloyal treat leapt from my hands And speared itself directly In my grandmother’s face.

The vanilla dripped like blood down her nose But She wiped a finger across her face Stuck it in her mouth And grinned