Over Your Head

OVER YOUR HEAD Beautiful menu (Beautiful prices) Beautiful big room Beautiful chandelier The women are not just beautiful They are gorgeous! Their husbands? dates? escorts? probably rich I am not rich not even reasonably well-to-do The waiter carries this this attitude He thinks he’s better than me I can tell by the way he carries himself His face is drawn as though he’s just smelled a ripe fart I mean the place is CLASS! There are strolling violins four They are playing a Strauss waltz But no one is dancing Now this fellow with the smell-me attitude wants to know “Will you be having wine with your dinner?” This is not a question it is a demand! Hey! Nobody drinks coke with their meal I nod no. The waiter’s face changes no expression ashen My date turns the color of her hair ribbon I am in deep disgrace After a spell (seems like hours) of self-flagellation I recover Look around Anything to get away from her condemning eyes There is smoke in the air But more than smoke It is the perfume of courtship The mysterious mating ritual (tribe natives) I risk a glance She fancies all eyes are on her The demure Falseness I cannot recall ordering the meal But here comes the salad I begin greedily One of the strollers is playing just above her lustrous hair He plays a haunting serenade I have noticed at other tables men offering tips I bend low over the gooey salad Paganini gets the message walks away My lady for the evening cannot even look at me I would speak but my mouth is full of lettuce She excuses herself to the powder room Will she return? NOT A CHANCE!