Thursday, June 22, 2006

A Four Hour Lunch, A Four Hour Lunch

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
a tale of a fateful lunch.
That started in a Central Park,
amid this crowded isle.
The mag was a mighty pub of trade,
of spirits, wine and beer.
Two editors set off that day,
for a four hour lunch, a four hour lunch...
The shmoozing started getting rough,
they could not get away.
If not for the tasting of the vintage wine,
the Bridget would be lost; the Bridget would be lost.
The lunch took long oh much too long, how disorganized they were,
with journalists, the Gondelier too,
the Man that cheats on his wife,
the Half Naked Model, the Chilean, and rosé wine,
at Central Park Boat House.


*****


Before the lunch we saw a nun leisurely riding a bike through Central Park. She was dressed full robes and habit. I was so mad I couldn't get to my camera phone. So I drew a picture:

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