Downtown Dinner Drag

I found out, later on, we went there because

Of her memory of love-long-lost, it was

A locally-famous 4-Star grill,

Where the view was ocean & tropical-nice,

And the food was fancy, but basically swill,

Dished-out at a cheeky exorbitant price...

Once seated, I gaped at the stilted menu,

Then wished for a chance to escape from the venue,

But, deflated, defeated, and trapped in-place,

I grinned at the waiter, and tried not to think

Of the bill, and our girl with the pretty face,

Who snapped photos of her blue-colored drink...

Resigned to my fate and degraded digestion,

I toyed with the artichokes, fennel, and bisque,

And waited for a chance to make a suggestion,

That we finish our entres and flee, lest we risk

An assault by dessert, at the hands of Steven,

Who'd been bringing our food since the evening's inception,

And now pushed sweet-pies, as if to get even

For some sin unnoticed, or fiscal deception

By previous guests, who ate but excluded

The tip, assuming "gratuity included"...

And how could the uncle, who brought us along,

Be at once both so happy and utterly wrong,

Heaping praise on the restaurant, service, and fare,

While ordering cream-cake, and insisting we share

Over coffee, which signaled the end was in-sight,

And the torture was stopping, but try as I might,

I could not feel better the rest of the night.