Scribo Scribere

This poem was inspired by a gelato shop in Toronto.


Gelato Shop

I am walking down the streets

I’ve always walked, for sweets.

Through the downtown-filtered air

streaming through my bob of hair.

On my tongue the great desire

for flavors that will lift me higher,

high above quotidian me:

flavors that are bold and free.

So, let me come and stop

by that peaceful gelato shop.

Shall I savor straciatella,

shall I call it bell and bella?

Shall the flavor that I covet

be of hazelnut what’s of it?

There, too, is raspberry blue,

shot with flavor through and through,

and there’s pure chocolate overlaid

on milk and sugar with which it’s made.

Mint and chips are mighty fine:

so is that the flavor that’s mine?

I cannot decide: there’s the rub.

Eating gelato’s better than grub.

Cinnamon makes a pleasant change.

Elderberry I think quite strange.

There of course we have strawberry,

amarena and the cherry;

bacio, then, is like the kiss

you soon discovered that you’ll miss.

And that is why I’ll always stop

in that delightful gelato shop.