Grappa habit. Twice a day
I reach for the jar of raisins
soaked in vintage Nardini Bassano
to chew on a spoonful or two.
Last night I upended a dozen or so
onto the patio and well I never
if the ants didn’t come in an orderly line
and proceed to while away dead time.
Now I don’t know if you’ve ever seen
sozzled ants but it’s a major melee
what with all those legs refusing orders;
instead of carrying their eggs over their shoulders
they tossed them round like rugby balls.
I swear that several linked up to binge-conga
on the concrete while others lay flat out half on
half off dead leaves while others picked a fight
with tiny twigs and even if this is not entirely true
it would make for great spectator sport, don’t you agree?
Uh-Oh, the grappa’s running low again I see.