Oh Babbo, My Babbo: An Epic Poem

And then the bread of crusty crustsparking such debateLisa saying: “Eh, it’s ok”And me saying: “It’s great!”The waitress steered us brave and clearthrough a menu tough and tricky;A pasta here, an entree thereand “God, not that, it’s icky!”Beginning with an autumn salad,Lisa declared: “It’s warm!”Mint Love Letters graced my plate;Their function quashed their form.And then the entrees landed fastour mouths screamed out: “Oh Looky!”Lisa had the pumpkin lunecomplete with grated cookie.I, in turn, enjoyed the ducka full-on flavor attack;when the waitress asked: “How’s everything here?”I could only answer: “Quack, quack!”Our table cleared, we took a leaptwo desserts that we would order:chocolate hazelnut for Lisawith a caramel chocolate border.I, of course, partook of lemoncrostini to be exact;so tart, so sweet, my soul complete:our dinner’s final act.Blissful was our countenance,our faith in life all mended;We left on wings of gloryForsooth! My New York trip has ended.Babbo Bathroom ReviewFittingly, the last in our series of New York Bathroom Reviews belongs to the best: the Babbo bathroom was a bathroom-goers treat. Decorative flowers, a lovely smell, and a unique, quirky space: the Babbo bathroom has it all. There are very few bathrooms that evoke a desire to stay, and part of me–completing my task–seriously considered taking up residence right there atop the toilet. But alas, I returned to Lisa, and completed our meal. A little piece of my heart stayed behind, though. I should probably see a doctor about that.Grade: A+