The coffee shop didn’t have ice cream

and the ice cream shop didn’t have espresso 

but I … I had been dreaming 

so ordered a single scoop to go from Custard’s Last Stand 

carried it reverently ‘cross the street to the Ventnor Cafe,

where I asked for a double espresso 

and the young sun-kissed tattooed girl smiling summer 

wise beyond her years behind the counter 

picked up what I put down, and picked out 

the biggest mug they had 

transplanted my single scoop 

then poured me a double shot 

and paused — gloriously paused — 

to ask if I wanted to do the honors 

and for a few … good …  seconds 

I savored my not answering

because was it even or ever a question?

So she turned over my elements, 

big bowl, tiny pitcher 

and at my table, 

I slow poured over the ice cream

watching the espresso pool creamy at the bottom

rising lazy like lapping Jersey tides up the sides

just like me 

on a late Saturday morning …

baptizing Summer