summer as usual

it was usually summer
as you and me,
in love
as always
would say to
ourselves
"surely,

there is no more to life than this,"

The sea lapped the beach
and our words away
you and I sat still
lapping the world
like an ice cream cone
with our eyes

while we shared licks
from an actual ice cream cone:

soft-serve

black and white

isn't this just nice?
aren't we complete?

is your tongue cold,
sweet?