frozen section

i want to be snow in the heaven field.
the machines are empty of every 
little bright remedy. fingers cold.
i was promised a winter & instead 
we have the empty street. the car weeping.
when i first heard the world "pandemic"
i thought we were just window shopping.
all the good deaths are written in a list to be read
on a microphone only the rocks
are listening to. i call you. i beg 
for another place to go. i search the grocery store
frantic, as if a tub of ice cream is all we need.
drive to the other side of the island. 
everyone holding their heads like red balloons.
i watch so many people let go. join the clouds.
sirens. blue raspberry halos. finding 
the treat i was looking for. my mom
used to bribe us with ice cream sandwiches 
to try to get us to sit through all of mass.
everything becomes holy when you think
you are going to die. i buy them 
& hold them, letting them melt
in my hands. unsure of how to vanilla
our way out of this. picture all my loved ones
walking in frozen section. hands to glass.
fog to write our names in. the lines 
turn into spider legs. a man on the phone
saying, "no no no." a child taking off
his mask to find a pile of garnet hiding there.
i eat one ice cream sandwich in the car.
lick my fingers. consider what it would mean
to never return. turn the car into a whale
or at least a mango. my breath fogging the glass.