The Gingerbread House

   

Question. Why do I come to this deli to look at all the beautiful boys?

Answer. Why look at the served, when the server is always the one looking at me?

 

The rain came down heavy as I walked from Tulse Hill station

I entered my favourite deli, and the server sprinkled cinnamon

on my pastel de nata

He could sense my discomposure at my clothes getting wet,

so he lent me his umbrella to keep my clothes dry

 

I arrived, sat down, and spoke to my Spanish friend, David

who, like me, loves gardening

“Oh the server gave you, his umbrella?” he asked,

“Well Lee you do get more handsome each year, like a rose that keeps reblooming more pretty”

Oh my, what flattery

But dear David why has your hand started stroking my leg?

 

This is where I first met you, James

As time passed, I noticed your absence

A singular ache where your presence once was,

sharp as the cut of my great-grandfather’s secateurs

 

My friend Pepe from Mexico could see I was sad

and told me he wrote poems about nature

Then shared a story to comfort me

He set the scene: a mountainous bus trip to Oaxaca City

A man boarded the bus and tried to get a ride for free

My friend saw him and felt compelled to intervene

He rose from his seat and said to the driver, “Give the poor man a break!”

 

The driver, unsympathetic, refused,

so my friend paid for the stranger’s fare

Such a beautiful man, my friend thought,

and, indeed, beauty is often a matter of ethics

as much as of countenance

 

The stranger sat beside him and shared a story:

He said, “I’m lonely, and once I went to hug a tree.

I asked the tree to tell me something,

and in reply it shed a single leaf.”

 

The bus arrived at its final stop

and the two men descended, hugged,

and never saw each other again

 

You may have been absent tonight

but planting seeds with you holds both the warmth of that story

and the shelter of that umbrella

 

I returned to the deli late that night

“Thank you for returning the umbrella.

Did you have a nice evening?” the server asked

“Yes,” I replied

“I discovered all I need to know about love, nature, and letting things grow.”

 

“How delightful,” he responded

“Keep my umbrella,” he added,

“but do not despise the rain.

The rain, my friend, will hasten the growth of your garden.”

“Oh yes,” I said,

“but at midnight tonight, with blade in hand and with secateurs,

cut

I shall remove the excess, those who stifle my growth

And once pruned, he may yet be useful as compost!

I’m sure the birds will love to feast on the scraps

of his decomposed emotional sinew

And lucky for them, he got worms!

But I mean, really, truly, who should ever

dine out on scraps at a banquet of breadcrumbs?

You might as well live in a gingerbread house

where the mouse eats dead fingers and dead thumbs!”

The server replied as he gave me the end of day past sale pastels de nata for free,

“Yes. Less chance of renewal if you’ve got too much hope in your hands. Even in absence and rain, trust that with patience, your garden will reawaken even more beautiful tomorrow morning.” 

 

I nodded, smiled, and gulped down two pastels del nata, whole

 

The server laughed and gave me a serviette 

‘Take this’, he said ‘to wipe the creme custard straight off from your lips’. I paused and smiled. He had uttered such a simple phrase so tenderly as if that mere serviette was the server attempting to give me a kiss

And hmmm, maybe you have competition?

Only joking. Stay at home rest well my darling

 

Question. Why do I come to this deli to look at all the beautiful boys?

Answer. Why look at the served when you can look at the server?

 

I return home and remember your light

 

Back out with the boys that weekend

In the pub that we frequent in Soho,

I help Michele write his first stand-up comedy set,

the guy could literally walk on stage and get laughs from his facial expressions

I sit wondering if Andreas is wearing black eyeliner

David gives me a psychic reading whilst I can see him eyeing up boys.

He tells me to invite a certain someone to the opera

and then take them for pizza

He inputs his reading into ChatGPT to give me what he refers to as,

a no-nonsense report.

 I mean, really, truly. ChatGPT gingerbread if you ask me!

 

I return home and remember your light again

But is it your light James I truly wish to bathe in?