Hungry

If you remember that
one time, when
we’d stripped the pantry of all
its infinite possibilities,
and decided
to drudge through the snow
to the grocery store,
when we smiled at
the melancholic melons and
grinned at the grapes,
when we overlooked the avocados,
when we staged
the great rhododendron heist,
but failed
to steal anything of value,
then please do tell me
all about it.
I hardly remember a thing.

I’ll be outside raking
at the snow
while you make me
chamomile tea.

The Emperor of Ice Cream?

Well I knew
the prince of popcicles,
who proved a much
nicer fellow.
Cool countenance like
the emperor,
but firmer in his beliefs.

So, go on,
tell me about his highness,
his lofty lounge
on the uppermost shelf
of the freezer.
I’ll be with his son,
telling tales of summer,
of times when we acted
like kids.