It Wasn't My Fault because Like the Ice Cream Van Which Drives By My House on an Unbearably Hot Day While I Play in between the Sand and Sticks of My Mother's Front Yard, You Make Me Jump Over the Dismantled Fence, Despite the Fact that My Mother Said Not to, Despite the Fact that She Said I'd Hurt Myself Jumping that Broken Wire. I Jump the Fence and Rip My Shorts; the Introduction before the Climax, When My Thigh is Scarred by the Sharp Edges.
Never Mind that because as Much as it Burns, As Much as I Long for a Plaster, I Numb it With Determination because the Ice Cream Man Plays Such an Attractive Tune Through the Speakers of the Brightly Coloured Truck and Because Ultimately, that Soft Serve will Satisfy My Taste Buds and Relieve Me of This Intrusive Heat. You Give Me Anxiety and Offer Me Curiosity without the Satisfaction of Opening My Gift.
I Ran and Jumped, Every Hurdle, With All My Might and Still, I Missed the Ice Cream Van.