The 411

The 411 hides like an artists' colony
Down below the theatre's steps
A cozy corner, dimly lit for privacy
And a mood of electric expectation
Preeminent in drawing the creative minds
Of youth and old alike
Marble, granite, glass and metal invite
The interested palate of the discerning culturist
And along, tall drink of water
Serves to collectg coins for the romantic wish maker.
Little clusters of patrons share their lives
At tables short and tall as jazzy music plays
Local art jumps from the pale walls
In colors of ecstasy and imagination
And I try to imagine when the crowd will get thick
And words of rhyme and fancy leave innuendo
To grace the ears and minds of the patrons.