I know this eating house
that's best when the day's light
is laid out like a stiff cadaver
and the night's barely old enough to drive.
The tables cringe beneath off white butcher's paper,
The private booths are dimmed in candle glow,
though I warn you the waiters come and go
speaking of recycled tangelos.
The wine is always worth a toast,
and the place is filled with pretty folks.
This bistro's fare is more than fair
so name the day and I'll take you there.