How to Drink Champagne Alone

How to Drink Champagne Alone

without mumbling to yourself
about aromatics and palate length
and strawlike colors that go to the rim,

without charging yourself corkage,
without failing to toast yourself,
appreciating all the robustness

that you and your wine have to offer,
without falling into the lake
of Li Po and the mode of Anacreon,

without forgetting dinner on the stove,
laundry in the wash, kids in the bath
and husband on the way home, dry

from traffic and from the spiritless
day. Wash the dusty flute with Perrier
and let it chill in the fridge. Take

a moment to breathe. No one
but the cork will complain.
Hiss with the bubbles,

gurgle with the generous pour,
let it become your exuberant voice
(so rarely heard, only on special

occasions) as you stir the boiling pasta,
switch the load, suds up the heads
of your tired children who will ask –

no, demand – some of your “soda,”
and sip, sparks on your tongue
miniature firecrackers aimed at the roof

of your mouth. In the end, consider it a chore
like any other that comes with instructions
but happily: Wet and lather, rinse and repeat.

By Jen Karetnick

Originally published in RE:AL. Collected in Necessary Salt (Pudding House Publications, 2007). Please request permission before copying or distributing.