deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cold Comfort-Third Scoop

Working as a scooper
on Winter school
and weekend nights.
was often tedious
and sometimes perilous.
Especially on the
dark, cold, four-mile
ride home on a bike.

Insert your favorite
“Idle hands” aphorism here.
It's not hard to perceive
That when three or four
teenagers are bored, playful mischief is near.

After the infrequent customers left
and all the clean up chores were done.
like “Cat In The Hat” there was nothing left to do
but have fun.

The loudest volume was required
when to the favorite
Rock ‘n’ Roll station
the radio was tuned.
If a song like “Free Bird”
pumped out of the box,
you had to grab a broom,
that transformed
into a Fender Strat
And then to me
the next move was clear,
I'd rocket out the
door,
straw guitar in hand,
and, with a giant leap,
onto a tall, cement
trash bin I'd land
and there continue
my solo jam.
That is until
one fateful night
the store owner  paid a visit,
spied me atop the bin
and when he drew near,
angry he bellowed
“get the hell outta here”

An occasional
whipped cream battle was a blast
but a can of that stuff
is emptied too fast
and the cleanup
was rough.

All merriment aside,
My most cherished remnant
of my scooper employment
is life-lasting friendships formed
within the walls
of that ice cream store.
Written by Gahddess_Worship (Osomajestuoso)
Published
Author's Note
NaPo2024 #29
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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