No art, no exaggeration.
Here’s how it happened.
Last evening, we returned
for pasta. La Casa Italia,
of course. Slack night Monday.
Two tables occupied out front,
inside just us. “El Jefe” left
his portable t/v to greet us,
called the waitress, then
settled smartly back before the screen.
Now this is it.
He was watching ( she’s my witness)
a spaghetti western.
