Terri Kirby Erickson Poem

Ice Cream Truck

by Terri Kirby Erickson

From blocks away we heard the mechanical
music the ice cream truck chimed all over
the neighborhood, calling to kids like the Pied

Piper as we darted into our houses begging
our parents for change to buy Nutty Buddies

and banana popsicles, orange pushups
and ice cream sandwiches. Once the truck

stopped on our street, we swooped like seagulls
around the open window so the ice cream man
could take our money and hand out whatever

treats we asked for, which were always better
than we remembered from the last time his boxy,

hand-painted truck rolled around—the cold,
creamy confections freezing our tongues and

sliding down our parched throats as fast as we
could eat them—the taste of summer lingering
just long enough to make us wish for more.

- Terri Kirby Erickson, from A Lake of Light and Clouds. © Press 53, 2014