7
Ice Cream Phenomena
Everybody's clamoring for chocolate or vanilla.
James Dean over there's sipping pistachio.
Here I am, lactose intolerant. I don't like
that thing you like; therefore, I must be
diseased. Everybody's a doctor and I
don't even own a stethoscope. I can barely
even spell it. What’s bad for me is
everything that was good for me ten years ago.
Money, stability, health, optimism.
They all cause something that spreads
through me, putting down roots,
smothering the light, choking perennials.
Everybody wants gold leaf kale, bacon,
and truffles in their sundae, but no foie gras,
because everybody feels sorry for the geese.
Everybody wants their banana split to double
as a juice cleanse, but what we need is an antidote
for the way we strangle like kudzu, the way our cars
kill every James Dean you can throw out there.
They say they have the answers. I don’t want
the answers. I want us to just be quiet for a moment.