And then the Cabernet sings to me
I beg it to dizzy me
Reclined, in character visions
She’s in all measures, in each verse
Chorus curves
Tannins talk tussle
I agree, freely
The poetry pairs perfectly
And I stop the recital,
as I want another taste
of the ’07. But I
refuse
to write prose. 2nite
calls for rime, the erratic
pick of my fortuitous
flips. Rewind with three lines.
Return to churn another
urn ode. Open my poem
book to turn troves. This
wine might want me to
stop. I think it’s
a cop. She’s controlling
all my motions.
Feels like a sugar cube
pyramid crumbling on
me. Lovely.
(3/22/12, Thursday)
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