BAD ITALIAN RESTAURANTS
Fake troubadours warble
opera over the cheese shaker,
the pamphlet of wine, the grease
blot from a ball of meat. I won't
apologize for wanting eggplant
instead of veal, for giving
the maitre d's eyebrow its arch,
as I rearrange the quaint candle
and plastic rose, wait for the salad
of Caesar's pink anchovy, limp
over rusted leaves. It's enough
to turn a stomach to thoughts
of a bus, to escape the upholstery
of chairs and checkered cloths, splotched
with eternities of bungled saltimbocas.
--Shaw Kenawe
5 comments:
So, I'm guessing you won't be going back to that one?:-)
We have some very fine restaurants in the neighborhood, but some are, well, as bad as the one I wrote about.
Horribleness can also be an inspiration! I much prefer this to someone banging on about the beauty of a morning or whatever.
Thanks, Shaw, I loved it! You had me feeling the stickiness of the plastic tablecloth and breathing in the grease-laden air.
SF, Ha! It's true. I tried to turn a lemon into lemonade. Very therapeutic
Wow,
I have eaten there on more than one occasion.
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