Disappear for some where’s outed mess.
How to do so, singularly, not sure. 28
Hours left in this poetry prison. Shouldn’t phrase
it so sharply. What wine am
I opening 2night? Whatever’ll keep
Me poetically oozing. Don’t like how
That sounds, looks. But no time 4 rewrite —
What’s at end? Hopefully a Cabernet.
I do t care about vintage. Not
2nite. And I don’t concern Self with
Winemaker opinion. When they complete
Just 1 page, then I’ll sit at their table.
And only for a minute, maybe 2, then. Maybe.
Spacious my bedded blazes.