Ice Cream, Second Chances and First Impressions

The last couple of blogs I’ve written have earned me some extra positive strokes… which I’ve interpreted were a result of being “deep” and “profound”… two words I love to be associated with.  But this morning, I’m noticing that I have piled some pressure on myself to keep it up.  I LOVE getting comments.  They make me feel HEARD (which is a big one for me), valued, connected.  (Thank you all who have shared your thoughtful and inspired depths here!  And those of you who haven’t…I would LOVE to hear your voice!  Please share your magnificent heart and mind with the class.)  Alas… Sometimes “digging” for the profundity can pull the wool over authenticity’s googly eyes.  I strive always to free my mind.  And therefore to free Our mind.  Even if that means talking about ice cream.

When I wrote poetry at the farmer’s market the other day, one of my modest handful of customers was a young boy-man, accompanied by his silent, exotic, deep seeing girlfriend.  He handed me a stack of four quarters and I asked him what was in his heart in the moment.  He mused effortlessly for but a moment and then said, “I’m gonna eat ice cream when I get home and I’m really excited about that.”  His manner was the dictionary definition of matter of fact.  It knocked me sideways, since I am the queen of the deep… Ice cream?!?  What in God’s frozen decadent name do I have to say about ICE CREAM???

But I tried to ignore the fear voices and give myself over to the endlessly gurgling font of the muse.  I banged out a very short poem about ice cream.  I kept rereading it, wanting to add something… wanting to plump it up, pimp it out.  But it was stubborn as fuck.  It dug its inky heals into the ground and refused to move.  I shrugged inwardly and pulled the shameful paper from the archaic, indifferent machine.  Sweeping my embarrassment under the expertly woven rug of my ego, I read it to him and his enchanting consort.  I couldn’t tell much what he thought.  They stood up and thanked me and then confessed that they were both writers.  Oh no!!!!  I made a fool of myself in front of other writers!  (Remember that character from the early 80s version of Sesame Street… The piano playing puppet who was always screwing up his songs and getting ensnared in the hellish twists of self depreciation… and banging his head violently on the piano keys?  That was me.  Inside, I was banging my head on the typewriter keys, pounding out miles of linguistic gibberish.) (Note to reader= I am exaggerating.  Please do not identify me entirely as an exacerbated ego maniac.  Sure, I have that voice in me… and in the interest of this story, I have turned up the volume on it… but it is just one facet of my sweet, gleaming rock of a self.  Thanks.)

Sigh.  Poor Athena… lost her chance to dazzle.  Frowny faces and  Poopy diapers abound!  But this blog is a crystal ship setting sail to the land of second chances!!!  So I am going to take this opportunity to stab the topic of ice cream again.  And the beauty of the blog is that this is MY space, and nobody can storm upon me and put a stop to the frenzied sling shot bus stop cabaret of words.  Except me…

And now for a sock knockingly profound poem about ice cream!!!!!

A he and a she

Once upon a Sunday pounded

The corridors of gluttonous Infinitude



their respective under garments

with the abandon of phantom

children.  Dreaming.

Dreaming of frozen jagged alps,

Melting in their eager mouths.

Sweeter than the nectar

Of a mother’s supple, dripping



And over-paid.

They waded through

The endless slew

Of the thirty two flavors

That never quit.

Thirty two flavors of banana


Hardball hitting home run

Sunday night fevers

In a dish.

In a cone.

Home?  Oh Lover, this is it!

Phew!  I feel much better… Now I can die complete.  But I don’t want to die yet.  It was just figure of speech.  Okay God?  Make me live a long, long, arduous, growthful, uphill, sweat inducing human haul, okay?  (Making fun of my default orientation to Life…)

Hey, I need to practice poeticizing on the fly… so please toss me a topic (in the comment format), and I will knock it out of the park of my mind and back into the “out there” “great unknown soup”, back to you.  BRING IT ON!!!! Amen.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. spirit2go
    Jun 23, 2010 @ 14:41:45

    HO HO HO: Screaming, Creaming their respective under garments? You are a riot!
    (really like your spirit 😉


  2. nana nana poopoo
    Jun 23, 2010 @ 15:22:26

    i really liked this one 🙂 and i like ice cream lol okay heres a subject for a poem that i think you might find interestin enough to write a poem about. SUNBURNS


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