Bomba Pop

 Near Beverly and Virgil (in an industrial area of midtown L.A.),
an old man used to push his ice cream cart past my art studio.
The tinkle of the bell fastened to his cart always signaling
his unhurried arrival.

 One day as he approached three shots were fired
 on the street -- BAP, BAP, BAP!
 And his bell went suddenly silent.

I froze, thinking the worst.  But a second later
 the old man whipped past my window at a full sprint,
 completely abandoning his cart.

Later, as I finished my second ice cream sandwich,
I pondered these two somehow inextricably linked truths:
1.   The frailty of our existence.
   2.   The tastiness of free ice cream.

(18" x 24" Acrylic, oil stick on wood)