Like Life
It tastes like a dress
A gray-olive color,
With frills down the side
And a dark colored corset
Like long brown hair
That curls at the ends
And bring out her smile
As she eats her chocolate
Across from you.
It tastes like swirls
Of sugar and bean
At a train station,
2005.
The last time I would visit
With my father.
I always got chocolate
And vanilla swirled together,
With sprinkles and a
Red plastic spoon,
Even though it was in
A sugar-plastic cone--
But dad was smilingly simple
Just a white, vanilla cup.
It tastes like a first 'date'
That neither of us knew about,
When halfway through,
She laughed so hard she snorted,
Because I said the light fixtures
Look like bacon strips
And when people turned to stare,
She playfully waved at them,
And tried to speak with a
Mouthful of vanilla bean,
And nearly choked.
It tastes like a dimness
Of a fancy diner,
And when I'm nearly full,
I still insist on an order
Of a cinnamon sundae.
The chocolate sauce is velvet,
And the cinnamon sequins
On a gray-olive dress
With frills down the side,
As she eats her chocolate cone
Across from me.