The Ice Man Cometh

Summer to me is icies. Italian icies from the push cart with the little bell and the dixie cups. Not the fancy all natural green tea and goji berry but the sticky bright striped ones oozing with sugar. A white tart lemon or a red white and blue rainbow, dripping down your hand as you slurp it from the cup, the cup that you fold all up to suck out all the icy juice, the red juice that is all over your face, your shirt, your hands. Oh yeah. Summertime.

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