Saturday night and your guilty pleasures.
Sad movies and ice cream.
You know which film will draw water from your veins
tears from the blue of your eyes
they mist over, every time,
at the same part
a clench releases in your heart,
and you know those words,
that moment,
those characters--
will get to you.
And you just want to be gotten to.
Not caring today
about the calories printed on the carton.
You put it back in the freezer without a glance or a thought.
Carry the bowl to the couch and carve out spoonfuls.
Just waiting for that catharsis
as the cold melts into your tongue, blending with the warmth of your breath,
your sticky lips.
You cry, just to know you are real
even if this isn't.
And then you click the remote,
watch the screen zip to black.
Take an especially long time rinsing out the bowl.
Thinking only of the frozen lines of residue
before you put it away--clean.
And go to bed.