Ode to Cabernet.

The first connection of wine to tongue is ethereal--
as if I've been waiting my whole life for this moment.
A few glasses later, my skin is warm and life feels full.
As I make my way to the bottom of the bottle, I laugh more freely.
Drinking used to mean Friday nights and whiskey and beer.
Now it's classy and smooth.
I think.
Oh, yeah--it still drops me off in the same place.
Drunk.
Alone.
Sad.
It seemed so promising, but really it's the same old shit.
If only I had stopped at warm and full and laughing.