Samsara on it's head.
my kind of victory
is a wine glass
on it's side
rolling through
cheap cabernet
and then off the table.

Freddie Freeloader
blaring,
filling the room
with an air that feels like
a hundred frightened rabbits.

wine glass shatters,
no rabbits running;
the cabernet
and my feet
tap tap tapping
the floor.