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!
Copyright © Daver Austin | Year Posted 2010
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