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.