The Ice-cream Boy

Neon signs glitter a brittle freeze
into the hollow ice cream shop.
The curly haired boy walks in,
settles at the corner.

A salty screech silences the clock,
and a shy sparkle peeks out
through the grumpy hoodie.

He stares through the glass
with heavy breath, thirsty eyes,
at twenty-six flavors,
lost in a castle of frosty scoops.

He points.

Coins ring against the counter.
A murmur that doesn't land anywhere.

He takes the booth.

The cold finds him before the sweet does.
A smile cracks his stiff jaws.
His eyes go wet.
Beneath the freeze,
something still knows how to melt.

Ice cream boy
in the frosted kingdom,
holding winter on his tongue.