He sits in the park eating an ice cream cone.
A large one.
Nine years of age, with not a care in the world, save one.
Three scoops or more, in a waffle cone.
Not nearly enough.
As sugar and cream descend down his hands, not yet a man's.
A truck, all gay with lights, and frozen sights, sits at the curb.
A woman attends to the treats.
He stares, wanting more than he could possibly eat, as his cone topples into the street.
A large one.
So she gives him a wink, then hands him a treat, as she pulls away.
But the ice cream lies in the street.
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