The Ice Cream

IMG_0106.

Some obscene relation
between back lighting,
the translucence lent
to common objects or
a striding skirt like
the sun behind an apple,
relates it to ice cream.
Is it melting, or is it
The Scream, Munch’s mouth
the great flatness, the
denial of transparency.
To find both suggested
at nine at night
on Town Hall Square
means they are coming —
those White Nights.

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