To the winos and the connoisseurs

But you must already know these things, no?

Then have a little titter at the expense of this neophyte initiate.

When I drink, it’s usually a beer or two (rarely three).

Upon a time, it was good rye whisky-

neat, please, and room temperature.

On Christmas past, someone brought a one and a half litre bottle

of Black Tower Rivaner Rhine wine.

It’s been in my fridge since then, unopened,

until a day or two or three ago.

At which time I felt like a drink.

Not used to wine, I gulped it a bit.

But then, you know,

it left a pleasant afterglow.

And so I sipped,

coating my mouth with the perfume.

Taste buds as erect as chilled nipples,

sprouting new branches.

Such fine detectives.

No need for sudden buzz, now.

Savor.  Lengthen.  Make the glass last.

But alas the glass did pass,

save for a single drop perceived.

Wet the tongue tip just once more.

Fire up the city lights, I pray,

A’fore one last lullaby.

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