Like so much folly and confetti the cherry blossoms are back and scattered in the grass,
for it is May and spring and I am a young man living in a rental, just 26.
There is a courtyard no one uses I have made my own,
as I’ve discovered the peace in this place and the art of making martinis, of drinking alone.
And I have made a practice of coming here when the days bleed into dusk,
to sit beneath the cherry tree with the blossoms falling in my glass.
Crossing the yard and balancing it on my knee, the martini with the pickled okra
the sweet vermouth, the chilled vodka I’ve come to love
it goes straight to your head and has some elegance it’s true,
the okra like a witch’s finger pointing, now I’m you!
So here I sit alone with my drink, a bachelor, at the base of this tree
and here I will remain a lifetime or more with no one, but me.