On January 16, 1976 I opened the Pasta Palace…well, in my mind’s eye anyway. And it closed the same day to rave reviews…from all the voices in my head at the time.  🙂

On this whimsical Wednesday I figured I’d share this little imaginary restaurant with you. It’s an example of one of those kind of poems I have no idea why I wrote it. Maybe I was on an Italian food kick at the time. Or maybe I thought the term “pasta palace” sounded silly enough to write about. Maybe I had indention from some bad fazoli. Who knows? The point is…I wrote it and kept it for posterity and basically no one else but me. Until now…

Pasta Palace

It’s time for a little spaghetti
Or perhaps a mushroom pizza pie,
But if you’re like me, you’ll order rigotini.
It’s the one that’s the apple of my eye.
It’s the Pasta Palace, and we’re here.
They can cover your Italian food desires.
When you go, please leave at least a dollar tip,
Or you’ll step outside and find they’ve sliced your tires.
If your tastes turn to a tasty sandwich,
Well, that’s good, they’ve a hundred different types.
They’re fast, happy, clean, and efficient.
They can clear your table off with just two swipes.
It’s the Pasta Palace and we’re here.
We’ll be smiling, all they ask is just a chance,
But they’ll say if we give them any trouble,
They’ll throw mushrooms and onions down our pants.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1976

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