We ate only ice cream 
and became Sunday nights.

Was it you who called me
mint chocolate chip?
Discovered my green hair
and how my body orbits with
flecks of comet
set on intimate courses for
collision--
Did we collided in the 
crossing of spoons?
--Fed each other from opposite sides
of a red cushion diner booth
where we 
We both said STOP
and we both said NO MORE--
but we both moved plastic spoons
to each others mouths mechanically
and repeated THERE'S ONE MORE BITE
THERE'S ONE MORE BITE
Did we find each other in
the soft serve twist of the machine?--
your knees and my knees and your
shattered prism sprinkles and my thick
iridescent cherry balanced like
a stack of books on your head--
you call me RED PLANET
and BLOOD MOON--
stem soaked
in nostalgia or blood-- the syrup 
of the strawberries
we left melting on a porch
in August-- feed me like August
and root beer curbs-- like the
bed where we laid between bananas
and you told me this is what the ocean
is like-- this is why we came here
to split each other between bananas
and burn our wrists with fudge.
Can you count the number of banana
splits you've eaten 
on your fingers and who was
with you when you submerged in them?
I ate my first banana split 
after I snapped cinder blocks
and wore my black belt-- 
sat on the edge of a plastic 
boat with my father who called
me RED PLANET and SON
and shaved my hair off into
the bay and we talked about the desert
of Arizona.
Every other ice cream boat
I sat with boys who tried to eat
them for me-- severe banana
spoon by spoon and I said
NO MORE NO MORE
And he pet my hair and called me
BLOOD MOON said there was 
no such thing as love without
sharing spoonfuls of each other
until there's nothing left--
Full bellies and laying wedged in between
the another sliced femur of a banana--
cover ourselves in the peels
so we don't feel so melted 
and naked and cold and August bodied. 
How did we end up here on
another Sunday?-- the night
that dangles her legs over the 
side of another plastic boat--
We melt our wrists here. Melt
our kisses and drink the remnants
like cough syrup and
you say 
NO MORE NO MORE
and I say ice cream for breakfast
and ice cream for lunch 
and ice cream to sleep through the
afternoon like strawberries--
Did you remember me August?
Like our feet on the planks of a beach?
Like our fathers who shaved our heads
and taught us to eat?
When did I stop being mint
and chocolate freckles?
How did we think we could eat only 
ice cream. It WAS you who had
called me mint chocolate chip 
but you also called me 
Sundae
and RED PLANET 
and CHERRY and BLOOD
and AUGUST and fed me
one more bite 
ONE MORE BITE from
the other side of a diner booth
on a night that hung like a Sunday.