After every soccer game
of my youth, back
when I played soccer
and not solitaire,
my dad would take me to Baskin Robins.
"Win or lose,"
he'd say.
I wanted to win.
Today, I walked past,
glanced through the glass,
at all 31 flavours,
didn't stop walking
but lingered on the memory
of flavour swirling through my mind.
Soccer kleats still on my feet,
smile as wide as PEI rainbows.
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