A cat in the dark
hypnotic fog lights,
she stared at pastries
in revery and awe.
Muzzle pressed
against the shopfront
bluring windows
with exhales.
Acquiescence suspires
sighs of delight,
she peruses each tray
attentively bewildered.
A crime scene
investigation noting
details on mental pictures
filling imaginary jotters.
Suspect locations
endless caches
where the cream
has been hidden
the chocolate spilt
the walnuts camouflaged
in dark soft sponges
under coatings
of icings and praline
abundance, of flavours
a sweet tooth,
salivation as she nods
approval rolls her eyes
in forbearance,
neglecting to see
the ladies indulging
on the other side, inside,
if only she had an oven,
a house to stow it,
money for ingredient
to concoct,
cakes of her own,
ten minutes past
tea time she is ready
to leave, a beam
of satisfaction turns
to me in holy silence,
compassion compels I offer
to select her sin she declines
politly blaming diabetes
she has pride
walks away and murmurs,
‘Thank god
for small mercies’
granting her sight
to satisfy
her hungry gourmand eyes.
[Featured painting: La Pâtisserie Gloppe aux Champs-Élysées by Jean Beraud, 1889]