If I admit to this great fault

Please don't hang your head.

My palate shudders at the thought

Of an ICEE, oh so red.

The taste is great but not for me

It makes my teeth go nuts

A head rush sends my brain a reel

Cold chills tear up my guts.

The blues, the greens and yellow too

I handed, spewed and drew.

To kids from one to twenty-two

And that is when I knew!

My grocery store on twenty-fourth

Proclaimed to know the score

Of lips and tongues in shades galore

And them screaming, "I want more!"

Wallets paid and children spilled

Those ICEE's on the floor

The sticky goop adhered like glue

And splattered in my shoes.

The memories of those long gone days

Of nineteen eighty three

From eight o'clock till closing time

My eyes still clearly see.

Visions of the happy kids

While dancing in my store

Prancing toward their mom's new car

With ICEE still in stow.

The fists and glares of mom's dismay

Of clothes all stained and grey

I simply put out for all to see

Laundry soap at close display.

But yet, when I, in desperate need

To remember better times

I quickly go to a store nearby

And simply stand in line.

They ask me what is my desire

My choice, I must admit

The one that doesn't make a stain

An ICEE...make it clear!

Joyce Rapier © 2006