I have a pint of lemon sorbet in my right hand
icy burn dripping from gripping fingers,
and a silver spoon in my left hand,
and on either side
a friend
who tells me I'm crazy
for walking in the cold,
walking in the rain,
without a jacket,
while eating sorbet.

On the way back home
we stomp in puddles
gathered at the grooves 'tween pedestrians and cars.

Old ladies scowl
as our scattered splashes
hone in on their mink coats.