in the place
no less than three hundred people
would die
in a matter
of minutes.
one could hardly walk
through
the tightly arranged tables.
it was packed
every night.
reservations needed.
red tassels hung
from the overhead lights
thick velvet drapes
were on walls that had
no windows.
a hundred ducks
a night
met their death there.
a dump truck pulled
up out back
to deliver more shrimp,
more rice,
it was crowded, noisy, chaotic,
but the food
was four star.
three mai tais would
suffice.
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