The ice cream

The Icecream People

by

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle

and now the pecker stands up

better.

however, things change overnight--

instead of listening to Shostakovich and

Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke

the nights change, new

complexities:

we drive to Baskin-Robbins,

31 flavors:

Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry

Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream

people

a very healthy and satisfied people,

nary a potential suicide in sight

(they probably even vote)

and I tell her

"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they

find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"

"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in

and stand with the icecream people.

none of them are cursing or threatening

the clerks.

there seem to be no hangovers or

grievances.

I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave

that flows about. I feel like a leper in a

beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and

sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new

world. (all my friends tell me I am looking

better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you

were going to die there for a while...")

--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the

hospitals...

and later that night

there is use for the pecker, use for

love, and it is glorious,

long and true,

and afterwards we speak of easy things;

our heads by the open window with the moonlight

looking through, we sleep in each other's

arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,

inside and out.