? SLAB | Sound & Literary Art Book

Issue 7

Poetry

Kacee Belcher

Rainbow Popsicles


Every weekday the same song bojangles 
around my block. The haunting 
come hither of the ice cream truck 
taunts, yet terrifies. As I’m listening 
all I can think of is the balloon man 
from ee cummings’s poem and instead 
of craving a rainbow popsicle, 
the kind with all the flavors 
so I never had to make a decision 
because even as a kid, having to pick 
just one was never enough. Now 
all I want is to be able to steal mud-
luscious and get away with it. 
I wonder if the ice cream truck 
driver is goat-footed or queer 
or if they would dance in a honky

tonk for tips or if their dog up and died. 
I want the ice cream truck to blast 
“Don’t think Twice” because it is alright 
to be queer or goat-footed or to dance 
for drinks or tips, especially if you have 
the hooves to pull it off. Because maybe, 
just maybe if that truck could bojangle 
anything other than the ominous circus 
ditty on repeat, I just might abandon 
my words and hop-scotch down my walk-
way to get to know that driver and buy 
just one rainbow popsicle so the flavors 
could melt down my hands and collect 
into a puddle of wonderful.