Good Ice

Snow cones are so overrated I
would rather watch them melt
than even taste one and it’s cheaply
colored sugar fit for no one who
could see just slightly past it.
“It’s good ice” says the paper sign
they hung out over the cart where
they were serving all this overpriced
old tire slush scraped out and saved
to profit off the summer.
This cavity is killing me so quietly so
I talk too much to try and take away from it.
Dragonflies get busy while they hover so
unbroken by the blacktop, and no one
notices them making more
of everything they are and what they hope
to be in any way they can.
We all are so caught up with the colors
and the cones made out of paper
that we miss it so completely all so focused
on containing what is melting.
I could go further into detail about the tires
bald from years of being pulled around
the county fairs and festivals
where people dress like ancestors,
and characters from myths
we don’t believe in anymore,
but it’s not like things were better
back before it all was colorful
and loud.