Small-Town Ice Cream Place Poem by David Welch

It is written in the Constitution,
to even qualify as a small town,
you need to have a drive-in ice cream place,
you can trust me, Madison wrote that down!

They become our favorite gathering spots
when the snow melts and the weather gets warm;
Dairy Bar, Custard Shed, the Frostee Hut,
we've seen the names, and it adds to the charm.

They look like they were built in the 50s,
and all of the best ones usually were,
the slight slanting roof, two windows out front,
paved spaces for parking instead of dirt.

A spattering of old picnic tables,
sometimes a pavilion in case it rains,
often a playground or a nearby park
where the kids run around and act insane.

Thy have the normal milkshakes and soft serve,
this is the baseline, where they make their cash,
but also a host of fun novelties,
snow cones, bombs pops, and other things like that.

The best ones usually also do food,
you see the smoke venting out from inside,
burgers and fried clams, American classics,
pigeons stand by waiting for dropped French fries.

Come Independence some do fireworks,
and brings local bands to play for the crowd.
They don't seem much, but a town without them
is not the type of place I'd stick around.