The time will
present itself
when I should want to keep my head.
When my stomach should be calm
instead of gently churning.
When my tongue
should bend and twist and tut
at my command, instead
of swelling uselessly.
When my feet should follow
one before the other
in a seemingly well-rehearsed
line instead of lazily
trudging helter-skelter.
The time will
present itself
when more problems than
solutions fill this wine glass
to the brim, and my mind
will wail for lucidity.

But that sensual time
is not tonight.