At a steep angle
the bottle does glug
The glass fills fast
with awe I gasp

Stops my worries in their tracks
a salt line to a slug...
A taste of freedom
down my throat

Worries jettisoned
my sacred medicine
Temporary isolation
just a tidal moat

Why are we here?
I don't remember
The summer gives way
to the misty mornings of September

Early dementia...
Who are you?
At depth I yearn
for bioluminescent blue

You feel the dark cold?
I feel it too