EATERY, BLEATERY, CROCK

In the bad old days, pre-Bloomberg,
Folks in restaurants
Had to hie outside to light up
Furtively like cons.

Now the air’s been fully cleared,
Smoke no longer annoys;
But something hovers in its place:
Ear-polluting noise.

Blame the iPod blasting music
Into tender ears?
Point to architects who pander
To the owners’ fears?

They don’t want a cemetery
Still as snow in descent;
Restaurants must throb with life,
Promise merriment.

At that table over there,
However, bells like hell’s
Ring from entree to dessert,
Crashing decibels.

Move to the other end, you say,
Pockets of quiet exist;
Make like someone positive,
Make like an optimist.

Don’t be a fuddyduddy churl,
Don’t be such an ogre;
Be an easygoing chap,
Stick to playing pogre.

Easy for you and your friends to say
–Keep your cool, be stable!–
You’re the ones shouting the loudest
At the farthest table.