The suburbs were the land of plenty...
Playgrounds, the lakefront and swimming pools...
We rode our bikes all over the neighborhood...
Attended first class public schools...

We would all be home for dinner...
At the exact same time every night...
We ate together as a family...
And never was there ever a fight...

We shared stories of our daily adventures...
And politely let our siblings speak...
Once the dinner dishes were all washed...
We would go outside for an ice cream treat...

It was just after our family dinner...
When the ice cream truck would arrive on our block...
All the kids would run outside...
Read the menu to see what was in stock...

As “Pop Goes Weasel” blared from the megaphone...
And the children waited with anticipation...
The ice cream man politely took our orders...
Then dispensed with our desired jubilation...

My favorite was the ice cream...
Packed into the thin waffle cone...
My second favorite was the orange push up...
Upon finishing, I’d let out a groan...

We would always say “thank you”
As the ice cream man offered a smile...
“I hope to see you kiddies tomorrow!”
But we knew it might not be for a while...

So we were always listening for his truck...
As we did after dinner was through...
For the ice cream truck was our favorite way..
To bid the perfect day adieu...

© 2020 Jeffrey Pipes Guice