If I’d begged, pleaded or cajoled
Lunch with dad
Might have taken place in
A five-star Michelin-rated
Rotating restaurant or at
Bistro on the avenue
Where we’d surely dine on
Foie gras, filet mignon or snapper
Or to the local deli
for the triple home run deli-cacy of
BagelLoxCreamCheese
Or perhaps to the trendiest
Vegetarian hangout for a
Detox smoothie,
Grass-fed, free-range, barn-raised eggs
And uber-organic edibles
But instead, as it happens
With no arm-twisting at all,
We settled on the simplest dish of all
Hot dogs from a place
That (quite FRANKLY) was subpar,
(And not only because I haven’t actually eaten a chien chaud for ages)
To quench our thirst, and
To stifle any lingering pangs,
We completely, unhesitatingly and unilaterally
Agreed that there was only one
Place to go to top it all off
And that (quite FRANKLY, though we passed on the hot dogs)
Was – and Is – the One and Only OJ’s (aka Orange Julep).

