i watched an instagram reel which said the biggest mistake
in marx's theory of revolution was that he couldn't predict
a world where all of us could afford icecreams.
everything else is the same—the alienation, the commodification,
the minority ownership— but all of us can also have icecream.
i was eating a blue currant icecream cone
when a little berry in it pushed me back
to the time when you bought a small tub
of blue currant icecream from the canteen
and fed me one spoon then one spoon to yourself
as we talked and talked and oh the moon.
i want you to remember what you are
a reminder of: all of this is already me
so i don't have to make it all mine.
the cone breaks in my hand: the chocolate tip
falls to the floor, dollops of blue currant
on my blue tshirt, on my black trackpants.
i put my mouth on the broken cone and suck—
like meatmarrow from a muttonbone, like warfate
from a battleconch, like hopewater from a halfdrowned body—
to salvage what i can and swallow what has been salvaged.
~ ajay
19/2/2025
