November 19 Poem

Maria, with her heavy accent,

greets us, tells us she’ll make us any kind—

ricotta, chocolate, or vanilla on the

inside, and rich, crunchy plain,

chocolate, or chocolate dipped

“little tubes” to hold it all in.

One of each, of course,

in combinations I’ve already forgotten.

The ricotta is stunning, ambrosial,

and I’m reeling, grinning wide.

Everyone else is at Mike’s

around the corner, but Maria

makes the best cannoli and

this just might be dinner.

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