Charles Green Shaw's hilarious poem "The Bohemian Dinner" that itemizes a typical evening meal among the disaffected hip. How little things change.
The ride down town. The Washington Square district. The “bohemian” restaurant. The descending steps. The narrow hall-way. The semi darkness. The checking the hat. The head waiter. The effusive greeting. The corner table. The candle light. The brick walls. The “artistic atmosphere.” The man who plays the piano. The wailing sounds. The boy fiddler. The doleful discords. The other diners. The curious types. The long hair. The low collar. The flowing tie. The loose clothes. The appearance of the food. The groan. The messy waiter. The thumb in the soup. The grated cheese. The twisted bread. The veal pate. The minced macaroni. The cayenne pepper. The coughing fit. The chemical wine. The garlic salad. The rum omlette. The black coffee. The benedictine. The Russian cigarette. The “boatman’s song.” The mock applause. The “tempermental” selection. The drowsy feeling. The snooze. The sudden awakening. The appearance of the check. The dropped jaw. The emptied pockets. The last penny. The bolt for the door. The hat. The street. The lack of car fare. The long walk up town. The limping home. The bed.