["The poem is obviously not about ice cream, but about being as distinguished from seeming to be."
--Wallace Stevens, "Letters"]
Bring on the spreader of dark jimmies,
The minimum-wage one, and bid him mix
In styrofoam cups the vanilla and the lo-fat coconut.
Let the others dream of renegades of Heath bars,
Seneca of walnuts, mighty Iroquois of fudge,
Set on Personals from recycled papers.
Let be the cadence of inert.
The only emperor is the emperor of frozen yogurt.
Take from the mall quick with tiles,
Luminescent and scornful of clocks, the woolen sweater,
Grimly priced, with which she banishes shades.
And place it around her shoulders, neatly.
If the plastic card be worn, it shows
Her paying up and through the nose.
Let the schoolgirls prance and flirt.
The only emperor is the emperor of frozen yogurt.