The Only Emperor

If it’s true there’s no ice-cream parlor anywhere in the United States named The Only Emperor, let this be a call

to some entrepreneur to open such a business and grow it into a national chain, its honorary CEO of course

Wallace Stevens, his bust above a menu of flavors and various ice-cream products near which a banner displays the company motto:

“Concupiscent Curds.” Every customer— isn’t the choice to eat ice cream an existential act?—an emperor or empress.

Let the poet’s “seem” be a great craving and the “finale” of that craving be a double scoop of Cappuccino Swirl,

and let a small spotlight affix its beam not on one who lies all covered (but for her feet) by a sheet embroidered with fantails

but on a sign announcing the flavor of the week, with customer satisfaction guaranteed by the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company.

In the face of illness, Havana Mango. In the face of decrepitude, Banana Supreme. In the face of death, Floridian Passion Fruit Caramel.