Friday, April 3, 2009
a glass of red wine. settled before me. deep red. swirl swirl.
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. i put my lips against the rim. i inhaled -- i smelled alcohol, clouding over the fruits and spices. i sipped. it stung. i tasted alcohol, powerful and burning as it slided along my tongue and down my throat. it was wine, but where was the aroma, the delicate taste, the poem?
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. i sipped and sipped again. it was tolerable. but after a while i began to want it to disappear faster. i stopped sipping and began gulping. i wanted the alcohol. the wine will get me drunk, but i can do that with a can of beer. the wine will get me drunk, but there was nothing romantic--or even fun--about it.
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. it was finished. the glass empty. a puddle of reddish pink residue on the bottom. i ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth. i remembered the good wines i've had--they left a rich aftertaste. woody or fruity. i licked my lips. bitter and smelling of alcohol. i wanted a glass of water to rinse it off.
but this glass of cheap red wine. it stood for something. a thoughtful gift, a sweet meaning. a part of the manifestation of an achingly beautiful feeling. poured down a glass for me. inside every drop was a hope to see me smile, see me happy.
and that, love, is more important than the color, the aroma, the taste, or the aftertaste of this glass of cheap red wine.
so may you be like this glass of cheap red wine.
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. i put my lips against the rim. i inhaled -- i smelled alcohol, clouding over the fruits and spices. i sipped. it stung. i tasted alcohol, powerful and burning as it slided along my tongue and down my throat. it was wine, but where was the aroma, the delicate taste, the poem?
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. i sipped and sipped again. it was tolerable. but after a while i began to want it to disappear faster. i stopped sipping and began gulping. i wanted the alcohol. the wine will get me drunk, but i can do that with a can of beer. the wine will get me drunk, but there was nothing romantic--or even fun--about it.
may you not be like a glass of cheap red wine. it was finished. the glass empty. a puddle of reddish pink residue on the bottom. i ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth. i remembered the good wines i've had--they left a rich aftertaste. woody or fruity. i licked my lips. bitter and smelling of alcohol. i wanted a glass of water to rinse it off.
but this glass of cheap red wine. it stood for something. a thoughtful gift, a sweet meaning. a part of the manifestation of an achingly beautiful feeling. poured down a glass for me. inside every drop was a hope to see me smile, see me happy.
and that, love, is more important than the color, the aroma, the taste, or the aftertaste of this glass of cheap red wine.
so may you be like this glass of cheap red wine.
