Things Not Jazz: Ice Cream Sadness

I’ve got ice cream sadness.

I’ve been eating too much ice cream.

My dentist is mad at me.

My dental hygienist is mad at me.

My teeth are mad at me.

My gums are mad at me.

My new blue jeans that I can’t wear
because I’ve gained twenty pounds
and can’t button are mad at me.

Even the little machine
that tallies up my blood sugar
every morning is mad at me.

I’ve got ice cream sadness.

But in the grand cosmic scheme of things
in the ochre light of Jupiter in the evening
in the ochre light of Saturn in the morning
ice cream sadness isn’t a deep blue kind of blue.

Ice cream sadness is like a hangover
that hangs around for weeks and weeks
but it’s not the deep blue kind of blue
jazz musician play distorted melodies about
lamenting too much or too little heroin.

Jazz musicians get groupies
girls who like the way that deep blue kind of light
makes their shadow faces look glam.

Ice cream sadness is an ochre kind of blue
something like green and even shadow girls
who paint their eyelids weird shades of green
don’t think ice cream sadness is any kind of glam.

Even when I’m thin
I’m not really a heroin kind of guy
but I can play guitar a little bit
and maybe if I get thin enough
if I stay away from ice cream long enough
I can replace this ice cream sadness
with something deeper blue
like one of those shadow girls with green eyelids
who will put up with an aqua shade of blue
because I know I’ll never get the blue quite right
but even bad jazz that’s not too bad
can take the ochre light from Jupiter
and the ochre light from Saturn
and make the light blue enough
to make a groupie who’s good at pouting
look glam doing a shadow pout.

I’ve got ice cream sadness.

But I haven’t given up.

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