bombs away

warmer weather gets me salivating for a firecracker, ne (that's nay, without the accent) bombpop. those are the red/white/blue popsicles that discolor your mouth and drip sticky onto your hand. after lunch today, i got one, since the ice cream truck brigade is back for the season and parked nearby.

except they've sleeked out the firecracker this year. it's thinner and longer...and, eating it on the streets of manny-hanny feels pervy. is nothing sacred? not even popsicles? does my imagination dwell close to a gutter? does yours?