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| Boysenberry ice cream |
Mea culpa
Ringing his bell, old Ciccio Antony,
the ice cream man, arrives. For just five cents
you get to taste the flavor-of-the-day,
but on your birthday, two big dips for free.
Having had enough of indigence
that sweltering Fourth, and knowing I might pay
a hefty price, I coolly jumped the line,
barefacedly alleged I’d just turned nine,
then claimed my purple prize. But someone knew
I’d come into the world in January.
Wasting not a minute, Eddie blew
the whistle on my luscious boysenberry
sin. Still, I got off with just a few
Our Fathers and a fervent Hail Mary.
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