The first wine gets me to stop shaking, and the second one starts warming me from my center. And the rage I entered the establishment with on my hands stains the bar a bit, but Pinot spills over it and I no longer care. And I’m twirling the days events between my fingers, but my fingers go slack and I no longer care. And I’m thinking about the man with the wife who visits me occasionally and I think I smell him but I take a sip and I no longer care.