NOTES FROM A DIRTY, SHAKEN MARTINI

You should have called me when

the bar had an “open” sign for light and

you and your date sat in the pink of it

I would’ve liked to watch

The bar had an “open” sign for light and

you don’t understand a lick of French but

I would’ve liked to watch

you sound out “La vie en rose”

You don’t understand a lick of French but

saturate yourself in me and I’ll have

you sound out “La vie en rose”

your tongue flickering behind your teeth

Saturate yourself in me and I’ll have

you creating personas on the first date

your tongue flickering behind your teeth

spitting lies like, “Ah, yes, I remember the summer of ‘98.”

You? Creating personas on the first date?

I never thought I’d see the day

spitting lies like, “Ah, yes, I remember the summer of ‘98.”

When in reality you were, like, five

I never thought I’d see the day

a first date ditches you after the first round

when in reality you were, like, five

deep on your own, one too many olives bouncing around for good luck.

A first date ditches you after the first round

you blame their inability to listen, convince yourself you are

deep on your own, one too many olives bouncing around for good luck

you don’t need them

You blame their inability to listen, convince yourself you are

perfectly salted on your own

you don’t need them

they don’t even know how to rot.