The liquid
the suffering
the deep red so deep and red
that only the sea could be more blue
The glass, the green
The intoxicating colors
of a lonely evening
or a dinner date
The stains of anger or
happiness or
fear
Wine, wine
the liquid,
the joy.
The slowed reflexes and
the numbed pain and
the misfiring nerve endings -
the cerebral palsy of alcohol.
The divorced mother of alcohols,
the best friends reuniting,
the new house celebrating,
the variety of steak cutlery,
the funeral of alcohols.
Wine, wine,
the deepest end of a sea
everyone dares to drown in,
and words that can’t be taken back
and deeds that cannot be undone
and promises that are foolishly made,
and birthdays to be celebrated,
and weddings to be held,
and dances to be danced,
all under the soft, dark cloak of
wine, wine.