Happy Birthday
She went to lunch today
by herself
on her birthday.
She told no one,
ordered an expensive red,
tipped 25% instead of her usual 20.
Choice. It was her choice.
No singing waiters,
no phony candles
no phony wishes.
An unbidden kinship
with silence.
Better than a floozied night out
eyeing the cellist
because she always eyed the cellist
unless she saw a ring,
then she moved to the saxophonist—
all tight jeans and long hair.
Her birthday present to herself
would never ever ever be another woman’s man.
So tip them big, say nothing,
head home in the rain-darkening sky.
There’s a pint of freezer-burnt butter pecan
at home.
Happy birthday.
No candles.
Many wishes.
*
Tobi Alfier’s credits include Arkansas Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Cholla Needles, Gargoyle, James Dickey Review, Jerry Jazz Musician, Louisiana Literature, Permafrost, Ragaire, and Washington Square Review. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (bluehorsepress.com).
I just love this poem. Really brilliant! Love the 25% tip!
I love this poem. Loneliness and freedom…loneliness AS freedom sometimes, especially when you consider the alternatives. The strength of women who know how to be alone.
I am sorry I didn’t get to it sooner, Tobi, but I also love this poem. It’s timeless and timely.