A French restaurant opened…
And closed…
A casualty of the usual theories…
A sullen wait staff,
A poor economy,
A testy chef,
A food critic jaded
By too much pate.
But amazingly a burrito bistro
With piñatas and fresh paint
Opened on its heels,
Lasted briefly,
Before it succumbed
To the usual theories.
Then a Peruvian chicken chain
Inked the lease,
Held out for a year,
And without a ripple
Went under.
Then a soup maker came,
Then burgers and shakes…
Dreams to aches,
Then out,
Victims of the usual theories.
A furniture restorer then took the space
And just signed
His second five-year lease.