This is for the We Write Poems prompt… I wrote a completely different poem at first, then backtracked and wrote this one, which was completely unexpected. But it makes sense: last time I was home, I went to THE premier Italian bakery, which got the taste of Pastry Done Right in me. That kind of thing just does not exist down here, so far as I’ve seen. In a gritty, rough-edged place, something about the perfect taste stood out even more, because it takes love to unearth a gem from a bed of stones. And in a touristy historic downtown, the same kind of place feels just sort of thrown in there, especially when their pastry comparatively sucks. The first bakery has conspired to keep me hooked on their authenticity, I think.
Two Bakeries
We were warned about this cave of handheld wonders
folded in upon themselves a thousand times, stuffed with
sweet cream and orange blossom water, piled on trays.
Zoological garden of anytime delights, tempt us with palatal sin.
We pop big-bodied sugar crystals in our teeth, we breathe
and leave clouds on the unjust glass that separates us,
keeps us from devouring these lotus-flower pastries:
or perhaps we’re the ones who need protection.
There are photographs of Presidents and Popes on the walls,
antique clocks and cash registers whose ping defeats
the silence of this immaculate chapel. We gnaw on history
and it melts in our mouths: we stand by the car in the sunlight,
showing off our pleasure to the sky.
One taste too many and there are biochemical reactions,
a need for the weight of canoli and the challenge of biscotti.
Took the train to Alexandria on a Saturday afternoon,
searching for some cure in the ornamental brickwork
just as slick with memory. When the rain came
pouring off the awnings, we found a sheltered terraza
where we could shake our hair and dry off in peace.
They brought us pale-foamed mocha and chocolate puffs
that crumbled at a touch: how odd that the same ingredients
could taste so terribly different.
People passed by wearing sullen faces, licked their lips
with sour tongues. We scattered crumbs for the birds on
their forgeries of sidewalks, hoping a bit of chaos might wake
some familiar lifeforce this town had long forgotten.
Hi Joseph,
This is as rich as the pastries! So many great lines:
“the unjust glass that separates us,
keeps us from devouring these lotus-flower pastries:
or perhaps we’re the ones who need protection.”
“They brought us pale-foamed mocha and chocolate puffs
that crumbled at a touch”
As a child, I remember visiting a shop where my aunt worked that sold biscuits from large glass-topped tins around the walls. If I was lucky, I was given a broken biscuit. Simple pleasures are the best!
http://jingleyanqiu.wordpress.com/2010/05/25/brian-and-tara-miller-u-rock-14th-anniversary-celebration-post/
please visit Brian to wish his 14th marriage annivesary.
Thanks a lot!
awesome writing!
Happy Tuesday!
;)
you do make that bakery a cave of wonders. presidents, popes, and antique clocks.
“we gnaw on history and it melts in our mouths” at least you’ve had the real thing, while those of us out here in the boonies lack even the alexandrine crumbs.
yum
You know, when I read your backstory, I thought of Old Town, which is where my sister lives. Hmmm…interesting. I’ll have to give you a call and we’ll share a bad cuppa!
As for the poem, I like the contrast and love the details. That’s one of the things I always look forward to in your work – the plethora of images that makes up the whole.
…We gnaw on history
and it melts in our mouths: we stand by the car in the sunlight,
showing off our pleasure to the sky.
Enjoyed this greatly, Joseph!
I agree with Derrick’s comments. This is a very ‘rich’ poem. I wonder if you wrote it when you were hungry. There really IS such a difference between bakeries. Where I live it is hard now to find many ‘real’ bakeries. So many grocery store ‘bakeries’ where everything tastes all the same and hardly at all.
I love “We gnaw on history and it melts in our mouths.”
Your prompt was a challenge. I think you met it..and more!
Mary
http://inthecornerofmyeye.blogspot.com/2010/05/walking-places.html
The first bakery all the more lovely when compared to the second; very nicely shared.
The first bakery seemed very real and genuine, the second less so in comparison to the first — and it was your rich details that painted this all for me. The cathedral metaphor of the first bakery worked very well, and I love how you used details (like the pictures of the Pope) to support that metaphor. Excellent poem this week.
-NIcole
Joseph
This brings to mind the wonderful bakeries I grew up with in NY the best were the oldest and most run down.
Love this. Thanks for a wonderful prompt..
Pamela
Interesting contrast of tastes and scenery. I marvel how you weave a story. A good bakery is a symbol of good living is the moral of the story (well simple me). What is life without sweet desserts.
Ah, you make me miss bread, Joseph. I can’t eat it, as I’m gluten intolerant. But, I vaguely remember tasting some of those treasures, and you made them into icons with this poem. Thank you for the prompt this week. Much appreciated.
thanks for prompt Joseph…..reminds me of bakery growing up….free glazed donuts…(culls)…we ate them by the dozen ….just about got sick….but deeeeeeelicious..and we always went back for more…thanks for sharing
Derrick: currently I’m doing time working in the cafe portion of the bookstore, and it utterly baffles me that unlike a cafe I worked at previously, one is not permitted here to make drinks for oneself or nick the broken pastries. Most unjust! So I imagine those broken biscuits will hold an allure for me as well if I can snag one…
Jingle: thanks!
Barbara: no joke, there are photos of the bakery owner with John Paul II and George H.W. (I mean, not that they’re two of my favorite people in the world, but still, impressive.) And it’s just this unassuming place in South Philly.
Lucy: glad you liked it
Karen: oh really? That is indeed where I was strolling around. :) Maybe I’m being too harsh, it really wasn’t AWFUL… but it was not the same, and that is what mattered.
Paul: thank you!
Mary: I was craving sweet things when I wrote it, at least. ^_^ Glad you liked the prompt, I hope I’ll have a chance to share more of them in the future!
heartspell: thanks, glad you enjoyed it!
Nicole: I hadn’t even noticed I did that connection, thank you for pointing it out! And yes, genuine is a good word here… the first one just has that presence. It’s been open nearly a hundred years, and you can sense it. They keep everything in perfect condition, so rather than a restored building, you feel like you’ve stepped back to the 1920s into a then-new establishment.
Pamela: oh yes, New York definitely has their share. I had thought that all cities had such places, but I guess not all of them do, and it’s a damn shame…
Irene: I like your moral! There are many ways to measure good living, but a good bakery is certainly the sweetest. :)
Linda: oh no! Isn’t there any kind of temporary-gluten-permitting thing on the market? Sidebar: someday I do plan to open a cafe of my own, and I will make sure to have gluten-free baked goods equally delicious. :)
Wayne: you’re welcome! And oh man, free glazed donuts? I would probably set up a camp outside their door.
Joseph — actually, more and more gluten-free products now are available, including cookbooks focused on Celiac disease (it is a disease, and chronic). I would make a special trip to taste your gluten-free goodies!