Gelato Dreams

I stumble upon the cold sugary delight in  Trastevere

And know that one taste will not quell my desire

I stand before the Basilica Di Santa Maria 

My gelato disappears before it is consumed by  hungry lips

Melted by the warmth of a Roman summer

 

And again

Overlooking the harbor of that tiny Tuscan fishing village

That kisses the Tyrrhenian Sea

Finding only two geleterias in Porto Ercole

We chose the one without whipped cream

“We must have whipped cream with our gelato” I declare

And go off with the intent but not the language  

I pantomime and whoosh and came back with the prize I seek

And a new word:  panna

 

Much later, flying north out of Fiumicino

Over the Tyrrhenian Sea

I peer out my window searching for my trombolo 

I see it

Clinging to the coastline by three thin stalks

 

I close my eyes and dream of gelato