Ice Cream

I started to notice
a pattern in my life
whereby every time
I had an ice cream
in one hand,
I'd have a woman
in the other.

Does that speak to the power of ice cream
or to the power of me?

There was a different woman
for every flavour of ice cream,
and though my taste for ice cream
was never quite the same,
my taste in women
hasn't changed one bit.

I worked at an ice cream parlour
and watched the women
in their bikinis,
with their lightly tanned skin
and long brown hair,
come in and pick
the same flavours they
always did.

There was something magical
about a place
that was able to
find a constant
in this world.