My neighbor, an irascible man, a few houses down,

often yells at the ice cream truck when it comes around.

He objects to the noise (or maybe it's the tune).

 

I take offense to his assault on my thoughts;

my youthful anticipation of cold sugary treats

on hot summer days.

 

I know one thing for sure, the next time the truck

comes around with its music and joy,

I will flag it down and order a cone,

 

and perhaps strike up a long conversation

about ice cream and treats

as the music keeps playing,

the louder the better.