1984 was the year we wore yellow eyeshadow
& found punk, hummed along to disgust
muttered tuneless by skeletal men we called artists
who exhaled heroin bitterness instead of lyrics
& rasped desperation that set our teeth on edge
it was summer & we were 17,
so we took our sandals off to step barefoot
on that nihilism, or was it just dancing on dried grass
with 2 boys from SUNYAB
we called men then, but barely past acne
with hands & feet too large for their bodies still
like overgrown puppies & matching them in eagerness
they chased down an ice cream van for us
where pot smoke poured from the slide window
yes, mister softee was getting stoned
in between shaping sundaes & twisted custard cones
for the concert crowd
& we laughed with knowing giddiness
or a contact from what we breathed
thicker than milkshakes,
chanting our new mantra to synthetic drums:
mister softee’s getting stoned
smoke & ice cream colors merging
& melting into muddled rainbows
Susan Daniels Poetry 
I love the sweet sherbet colors mix with the difficult subject ~wonderful as usual !
Thanks, Deb–odd little memory tripped by some music I heard today 😉
Lol, did you check his cones from traces of grass? wonderful side effects when cones are so laced!
LOL, too long ago to remember–but so much was coming out of the van, any ice cream was probably permeated…Still remember that every time I see one of those ice cream trucks… “mister softee’s getting stoned…” hahaha!
loved this one. ice cream and herb – a sweet buzz so to speak…*LOL*:))
one of those crazy fun memories tripped by a song…or an ice cream truck…
Fuck. I always said that I wish I had been born earlier. I would’ve loved to have been around at that time. Instead, I was born in 1984. Missed the boat! An affectionate piece of nostalgia!
Damn. You were born when I first staarted acting up 😉
Hey, I started acting up from birth! lol 😉
😉
if I winked this much in real life, it would be creepy…
Nah, you’re a woman so I reckon it would only improve your sex life!
hahaha–always room for improvement, they say…
Hehe.. “they say” or you say? 😉 Any idea what the subject is in dverse today?
hmmm. All I will say here is too much of a good thing does not exist, when we are talking about sex, so when is enough enough? The subject at Dverse is people watching–I did one about eavesdropping half of a cell convo at a coffee shop for it!
I am coming round to the idea that I will never be satisfied. That is my nature. I will be sure to check out your piece! An excellent choice! I am going to finish off some chores and then have a brainstorm. Fingers crossed it won’t suck balls.
S–I have never read anything of yours that sucked balls–don’t see that happening either, unless you decide to include that (literally) in something erotic…..
Thanks, Suzy Q! You never know, I may write a poem one day and use that phrase. Verbal porno!
Mine’s out there now if you want to see how I handled it…
I just checked it out and commented. Excellent!
🙂 thanks for checking it out, too!
Such an age, relative to our lives. 1984, birth year of my eldest, first year of home ownership, last year of my lighting one pinched end of stuffed onion paper.
We still did the concert thing, so many over the years I can’t remember them all. And there were the fiddle contests in Vermont, so much fun.
Nice remembrance, Susan.
Thanks, Nelle. It was a fun memory.
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A link to this poem can now be found at ‘edge of frog’
http://edgeoffrog.wordpress.com/
Thanks so much!