Julia Alessandri

We caught the sound of the truck

And the clang of its bell

As the sun began to set and the heat

Dropped. We sprang from the pool

And darted toward the gate,

Peeking through the small gaps

Between the wood planks,

Hoping the truck would be there.

As we caught sight of the word,

Roche, on the cobalt van,

We clutched the slippery wood

And tugged with our combined

Strength to slide open the barrier

That separated us from our afternoon

Snack. As the van halted in front

Of the gate, neighbors and friends

Rushed toward the list of endless

Flavors: maracuja, papaya,

And so many more.