We Mixed Martinis in the Basement

Dusty and squalid,

though the glasses were mostly clean

and hand rolled cigarettes

from note paper and pine needles,

browned and fallen.

Oak might have tasted better.

The martinis had real olives

and we mixed tap water

and white wine vinegar half and half,

they were terrible, but probably no worse

than vodka for ten year olds.

You told me they drank these

in fancy clubs in the city,

the city I had never been to,

you meant New York,

but I thought of Paris,

though I had not yet been there either,

 it was the only city I cared about.

Someone somewhere talked

about dirty martinis,

but I don’t think they could have

been worse than our

little basement speakeasy.