Focusing is an awful feat when one bloodshot eye is all that stands between my face and a street full of asphalt.
When the luster of ludicrous and ridiculous recreation gives way to a new way of thinking, new way of drinking, the dots connect again, easy like leaves falling or dawn breaking.
Wine’s my new friend, its histamines can take a hike though they pack my sinuses like mud as I fitfully sleep through the roaring night.
I miss Oregon Pinot tickling my lips and spine like a soft little animal nuzzling for attention, it’s time to revisit the sweet study and stuff of wine.
Winter’s in the wings and the time for cuddling is in. Gimmie a jeroboam and we’ll have a ball in the bottle while it all rolls off our skin.