You thought that you would grow up 
drink martinis and dance in the club.
That with time, you would be less hung up on the fact that 
everything must be just so.
You would be less high strung.

Or maybe—
that's just what they made it up to be.

You thought that growing up meant 
becoming the people you had watched all along.

But now, 
you are well past the age where people start to like the taste of 
bitter brine and burning wine
and you still don’t understand 
what is so lovely 
about martinis in the club—

Alcohol
you can tolerate.
It even makes you feel 
a little older.
Like maybe 
this is what you should like
what you should drink.
Maybe even sometimes
it is sweet.
But offer it to me 
on a night where
I don't feel like being something for you.

I'll take a glass of sparkling water, please.

JG