Ice Cream Social Tradeoff

I hated going to the Ice Cream Social Parlor
Mom dragged me by the brand new hat
Into the double doors and ladies claws
Tearing at my fresh skin with powder
Lips and wigs on prickled arms

Pickled pimples bubble now
I am gone from that pony show
Far away in textbook lands
Sailing ships of knowledge
Into locker docks, terrible metal ports

When I wash up into institution
I think I have survived but thinking
Sends me out to different seas
I learn to feel so small a sailor
Gripping at tiny, wooden strips of sayings

Knowledge floats so far away, near
Greece and the old women retire
There on the stark white beaches
I think about their death and skin
Their terrible caws into caverns of wax

I strip my mind bare to run
Catching up with them slightly
Slowly making pace with ideas
About skin drying like time moving
Crackling knuckle and dice lessons

Two make five, make fresh sweet tea
For the guests, the visitors and
I will fill them with southern floods
Until I can glean everything
I am sure of: the fresh, virtuous outcome