Awe for the dazed in society that clear no throat for the Ram of the shoot swallows.
Flu passed in the tongue jam on the butters clam,
to soup the bowl on mind,
to illness by the push.
For there on the unto,
the door,
it opens to know greeting as the use of the hinge reminds me of the Cooks on the finest of pinch.
In restaurants though,
the barter of the kitchen tier is a Plateau of ordered engagement.
Boiling pots,
steam on the thought,
meat hanging to age the proper for the find of the taste to the seasonings race.
The balance of the House of Prime Rib,
a wonder of the five-star enjoyments,
it is in True a tailor of a place on VanNess in the City of San Francisco,
the lesson of knowing the bartender growl,
for shall the measure not be of account than Silence Do Good is the answer of fowl.
As my experience is of the date to Newspaper on the Column of Herb Caen,
a San Francisco Icon bellows the oldies on each to the every by Pane.
Banking the question to the gentleman court,
on the bar to the pour the Ice Cubes just bust what a hell of a trust,
a Cocktail quest about the Pink Hippo no jest,
for the Keep was of best in that trade of the touch,
not a glancing smash as the hammer has been,
no nail in the pierce of my brain for the jinn,
no, it was a delighted enthusiastic response to and of or with my exuberance of tell,
for the Pink Hippo Restaurant was a blushing event for me as a child.
The entry to task on the follow of ribbons is in the tie to the bow of the chowder,
on the wharf of Fishermen such boats on the float,
hard workers or that bushman that spooked the tourist,
well in the memory of the Hippo it must truly account location with decor,
the valance of ceiling, those Hippo's dancing, it was as if Bill's Place took steroids and waltzed starred.
The roar of the crowd enjoying all of the drapes,
for I am not sure there was a corner that did not have a Playland by trait,
still to the Cooks the Waiters and service,
the bustle to text that write on the pad,
recording with tact a menu to have,
I remember the walk or the pouring of lad.
There were not exits that I spied for the enter of done,
no check of the room for an immediate fire of drummed,
no escape planned to spoof that I knew,
no it was different than what has become todays chew.
Now people don't visit with change on the platter,
it is more to the stick of the type on the batter,
the clank of the ice bucket is locked in the stun,
for on the moment of Instant the audience calls with words that are death,
kept to the stand I park to the setting of the table that taught to Napkin and skill,
patient to bred stick the dough of the pay,
baskets that glasses to paint the display,
dressing on stuffed the tongue of the brush,
the witness that came to gently by lane.
Never did I see an interjection of glare,
from the scandalous conversation I know that did chair,
for the sake of the better stations that speech,
quite aptitude to delivering reach,
so I have set the table with prime spelling to Feat,
and allow the baker the butcher and the candlestick maker the opportunity to teach.
For in these lessons of time on the living in bind,
I have admired the talents of whom have been Masters in Trade Service,
these are the men and the women that have Mentored more of my caption and I do not even know their name.
This is a small thank you.
that I in deed know you will find,
for as a child you always were able,
to be for the most simple of what I charged to be free.
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