should take time to
tune their trumpets before
blowing them- lest they knock down their
This cinquain is an ode to a certain local restaurant/brewery (hint: Their name is the title of the poem) that helped scuttle Roosevelt Row’s Business Improvement District and whose lawyer had the cheek to claim that their restaurant saved the area and put it on the map (nevermind the existence of Carly’s Bistro, Fate, and dozens of other eateries and spots that made the Row a hot-spot for YEARS before Angel’s Trumpet was the mote in a real estate developer’s eye).
This note’s for you, AT: