is very high end,
with white tablecloths and candles.
there's a statue of Venus D Milo
near the entrance.
uniformed
waiters bow, and approach us
in starched white
shirts and red vests.
we find our way to
cushy leather seats
that are pulled out so that
we can slide in.
we bask in the warm lighting
from overhead.
who is that crooning in
the low music?
is that Frank, or Dean, perhaps
Tony?
maybe Liberace tinkling
on the keyboard.
they ask us what kind
of water
we want,
placing the water menu
on the table
to help us decide.
there's
tap water, both domestic and foreign,
spring water with or without
carbonation.
there's water
from around the world,
from places like Finland
and Poland, the south
of France, the Alps.
there's water that has
trickled down
off the Himalayas.
there's water that Jesus
walked upon,
that will be a good companion
to your wine,
but my favorite is not
on there.
nothing from a warm
garden hose
screwed onto a spigot
against the brick wall
of my childhood home.
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