If you leave ice cream
In the freezer too long—
Your favorite—maybe chocolate
That makes your endorphins soar,
Or vanilla, so creamy
Your mouth has an orgasm,
But never strawberry,
Always artificial, never
Succulent like freshly picked,
Sun warmed juices dripping
From the corners of your mouth
Like your grandfather’s
Labyrinthian garden,
But real ice cream
Like rocky road, cookies and cream,
Cocoanut, caramel, pistachio, peanut butter
Creamsicle, sorbet, spumoni,
Thirty-one flavors plus
One hundred and one more
But not Neapolitan
Where you try to separate out
That strawberry strip,
And you fail as you let the chilled
Sterling silver spoon whip up
A generic moosh
To hide the faux strawberry
Assault, still
You can’t keep ice cream
Locked up for months
While you pretend to be
On a diet.
It crusts over like Antarctica,
Texture slivers, bitter, freezer
Burn, stale as a dumpster—
Just vanilla with hot fudge,
like love, you must consume it now,
hot and cold,
While it consumes you.
C.J Prince
copyright 2018
C.J. Prince Poet 
Oh how I’ve missed your poems lately. I look forward to an email linking me to your work every month…but have been without for a couple of months. You bring me happiness and peace. I thank you for that! ((hug))