Divorced Men

A poem I wrote last night.

Divorced Men:

I miss you
You always smelled like flowers
Like a woman
I wanted that scent
so I could breathe it in every day and feel you
picture you
put in on and become you
I still want to become you
You're perfect
Your dirty blond hair
Your moon-shaped glasses
Your shoulder bag
Your salads
Your smile
Your quick wit
Those rebellious ears that stick out
Just like you do
In a crowd
The freckles and tiny hairs on your arms
Your slim fingers
So perfect
So immaculate
So precise
Your forest green cardigans and white dress shirts
Your tweed jacket and pants
Your ancient blackberry
Your voice
Smooth as milk and honey
Your exercises
Your books
Your mind
Your ring
Which you no longer wear
What do divorced men do with their rings?
Do they make love to them?

Culinary criticism... and praise

I went to Williams for breakfast at 11 am today and ordered a Strawberry Caramel Waffle.  I knew I would enjoy it, but I didn't expect it to be heaven on a plate!

It was perfect.  I don't think I could offer any criticism except more strawberries.

The ingredients?  Freshly made waffle, strawberry syrup, strawberries, caramel, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipping cream and icing sugar.

In a word: amazing.  Five stars!

Probably not at all healthy, but it was fucking delicious and it made my day!

And I wasn't too bloated when I was finished either, but that might have been because of how much my stomach stretched last night...

Last night I went to an Indian restaurant in Brampton called "Tandoori Flame."  It was an all-you-can-eat buffet with 150 items!  Basically Mandarin only with Indian food.  And since Indian food is pretty much my favourite type of cuisine, I was in paradise!

They had all my favourites, like chana masala, basmati rice, gulab jamun, garlic naan, cute mini samosas, etc, but they also had unique things I'd never tried before, like this really tasty black lentil dish and some kind of curried potato and cauliflower dish.  I was going to do four trips, two for main course, one for soup (dal) and the last one for dessert, but by my second trip (where I had taken a large helping of chana masala, my all time favourite) I was ready to surrender.

But I had to have my gulab jamun!  That's my other all-time favourite!  So I drank a LOT of water, and went to the bathroom and ate watermelon and sat for a long time, but I was so full it was painful!  It hurt to stand up!  Indian food is so filling!  So I had one gulab jamun, which tasted amazing, and gave the other to my brother.  Everything was cooked so well.  Very warm and spicy and full of flavour.

There were two things I didn't see: Mulligatwony (sp?) soup and Pakora.  But pakora isn't really one of my favourites, although Mulliagatwony is.  Definitely on my top 5 restaurants list, which has just formed in my brain now.  Five stars!  It was great.  I just have to know my limits next time.  Small servings, don't be a hero...

This talk of food is making me hungry.  Time for lunch!

Spring Cabana

I decided to make a different post for whenever I post poetry.  This is probably the one I'm most proud of of the poetry I'm posting today...

Spring Cabana:

Like a holiday in a person
The ultimate diplomat
Gilded with tweed
Won the Euclid and the Fermat
Child prodigy
And a perfect gentleman
A perfect gentleman

You were Atlantis
when I first met you
I was so terrified
that I couldn't impress you
You were so perfect
So beautiful
You smelled like flowers

Had to know what the smell was
What flower?
Where are you from?
What are you?  Who are you?
A breath of fresh air?
An angel, a fairy?
A devil, a liar?

You packed up your Viper's tongue
Your lyre
Your childish analogies
It seems you have a taste for
skinny pale intellectuals
with unusual but not improbable hair colours
And now you're in Florence

Did I scare you away?