When young Clotilde devoured New York
she went to a spot-o
that I hadn’t been yet
where they sell gelato.
On the Lower East Side
near Katz’s deli
Walk south on Orchard
Hear the growl in your belly.
Outside it’s humid
you feel yourself sag
“Gee, how much further?”
Aha! Here’s the flag!
Inside it’s tiny
I thought it would be big
Just a white shiny counter
With no room to jig.
“Can I help you?” said a voice
“One moment,” I requested
Clotilde had picked two winners
she wouldn’t have me bested.
“Banana,” I concluded,
“and coconut: small cup.”
I watched him scoop the scoops in
and fill that small cup up.
Outside it was raining
the patter was real soft
“Here’s to great gelato!”
I said as I held my spoon aloft.
I bit and tasted and swallowed and thought
and I tasted and swallowed some more;
Is this top one banana or coconut?
My tastebuds were at war.
I snapped a blurry picture
appropriate enough
since my taste experience
was causing me to huff:
“It’s creamy and rich but muted
these flavors are so lame!
I wanted taste explosions
Damn, this is so tame.”
In fact I couldn’t finish–
into the trash it went.
So much for great gelato
this laboratorio is spent.
