Short Gelato Poems

I ate gelato in Firenze
in the shadow of a cathedral
whose name I could not recall.
And gypsies, their wide skirts spread before them,
begged in Italian, words I did not know. 
But what was I to do --
I did not understand their voices
and they did not recognize my hair 
as their own....

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I felt joy
From when we first met,
To when we had our small, playful fights.
I felt joy
When you told me about who you liked
And when you told me you had found love.
I felt joy
When you ruffled my hair
Or when you would see me dressed up.
I felt joy
When I got you gelato that one rainy day.
I felt joy
When we spoke
Or when we liked each other’s posts.
I felt joy
And only joy....

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Moored in Portofino
Are a bunch of gleaming yachts,
Reminding us that they're the haves
And we're the poor have-nots.

Their owners shop in high-class shops
And dine among their peers
While tourists come by boat or bus
To buy some souvenirs.

With prices slightly higher here,
Gelato still tastes fine.
Both caramel and hazelnut
Filled up a cone of mine.

At leaving time I'll board the bus
And bid the yachts farewell,
Returning to my hotel room
Where normal people dwell....

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I think of the little café in Berlin
Where we breakfasted sitting outside
And the strolls that we took from our Danish hotel
With the icy canal as our guide.

Gelato in Italy, pea soup in Prague
And hot cocoa on cold Swedish streets,
The memories cropping unbidden and yet
Sweet and lovely, like welcoming treats.

My travel’s on hold but these flashes are proof
That experiences while you’re away
Make a lasting impression to savor and mull
When you’re stuck in a pandemic day....

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