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)