we neighborhood kids flooded the sidewalk
waiting for the ice cream truck to sing its tunes.
Jelly sandals melted into the concrete while jean skorts
and tank tops colored the bleakness of the apartment block.
The elote cart bellowed– elotes, elotes!
Coins danced from palm to palm, laughter filled the streets.
Parents shused us into a uniform line, for when
the ice cream truck parks at our feet.
I was first in line when you walked on by
wearing a dark gray suit, black leather shoes
you looked me in the eye, grinned your sharp white teeth
like a stranger. My swallowed words
wrestled with hunger just before I could speak,
your attention was teased
by the young woman down the street.
Left with your shadow
we chased each other on the sidewalk until the sun set.
Abie Irabor is a first generation Nigerian-American writer and performing artist. She is a graduate of The Theatre School’s MFA Acting Program at DePaul University. She is a reader for Chestnut Review and resides in Los Angeles, CA.