ice cream shop

the first time we went to an ice cream shop,

we were on a date.

you wanted me to taste your favorite ice cream in New Jersey.

the lady next to us kept talking,

and you awkwardly entertained her,

while i giggled.

the second time we went to an ice cream shop,

you were introducing me to your best friend,

and your god son.

it was complicated,

but the ice cream settled us.

the third time we went to an ice cream shop,

we were on a date.

you wanted to steal a few minutes with me before we headed home.

i went back to that same ice cream shop today.

the man behind the counter recognized me.

he said he remembered how I danced on the way out,

the first time you and i came in.

we always danced.

and giggled.

you and i.

and, now that ice cream shop,

and the ones before it,

are all moving picture shows,

shrines to our past lives,

empty dance halls,

where the music plays and floor is empty.

they are memories of our dates,

memories of our stolen time,

memories of the sweetness,

at the ice cream shop.