Big Chiefs (for my brothers and sisters)

Dedicated to my 8 siblings

Big Chiefs

Oh, to write and scribble on Big Chiefs again,
with our pens
old now / worn pages,
torn into frayed dreams of Fudgesicles,
Orange Creams,
Big Sticks dripping puddles onto
rain-washed memories down brown legs
bent on curbs into barefooted drains,
Kool-Aid sipping,
waiting for the song of the ice cream man
Today we couldn’t get away with ice cream men,
or Helms* ~ Donuts (Two for a dime)
lined in sliding drawers,
Stubby man’s fingers pulling them out, one at a time
displaying, rows of wishing
and then some. . .
drooling over cinnamon twists,
bars drawn / / / in white stripes on hot cross buns
Grandma saying, "Children, choose only one."
. . .clutching paper bags, crisp, 
licking fingers until we were done
Four leaf clover fishing,
on the lawn
Somehow it seems wrong
to not run freely on pinwheels spinning,
skimming polliwogs in the neighbor’s pond
on hot summer days,
without fear of our innocence being stolen away
or to write and scribble on Big Chiefs again,
with our pens.

ldn

*Helms Bakery trucks operated in Southern California - 1931 to 1969.
The trucks would travel through assigned neighborhoods,
with the driver periodically pulling (twice) on a large handle
which sounded a distinctive whistle.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yDiPB-i4fc