Dessert

I've been wanting a bit of dessert for days.

Did I want the coconut cake from Cafe Patachou

or did I want to go up to The Flying Cupcake for, 

well, cupcakes? Instead, I went to the 

Frona Mae Dessert Cafe

on East Washington Street, right between a bar 

and an art gallery. A group of people sat at the front

table, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight

pouring through the window.

The building, gutted and restored

to create this space, reminded me of all the 

stories I've read about artists sitting 

in Parisian cafes discussing the latest 

in avant-garde art or sharing their 

poetry over tiny cups of espresso.

I had a bowl of Graeter's black cherry 

chocolate chip ice cream. 

Gawd, I'm a sucker for that stuff.

Even among all the pies and cakes, the ice

cream sang a siren's song.

Teaspoon by teaspoon, I luxuriated

in my little fantasy of being

in a French cafe, wiling away a bit 

of the afternoon as poets

and writers argued some philosophical

point, and imagined great art

hung in the gallery next door. *Sigh.*