Wine hits the tongue like waves on the shore,
Some crash harder than others when they strike our senses.
It was a very gorgeous taste; As if the wine had been cultivated to sit comfortably in the crevices around the buds – To give you that smooth warmth; Trained to sweetly kiss your palette after the right amount of milliseconds passed, and then jolt you back with a bite before dissolving with your enzymes. That’s not where you let it settle into you though. It was the way it paired with her laugh, her electric cool. Together they sat with you like the question, “How long can you hold a flavor on the tongue before you must have it again?” When the bottle was empty, seconds ticked by and no matter how resolved of an attempt of will to remain, regardless of all the repose in the world, it faded to dust – It’s like the feeling you get when the Sun comes up and you don’t quite recall falling to sleep or even going home – Not that it disturbs you, but you can’t help but feel a tad haunted by the whole experience.
Storms stir and calm, often reshaping the entire face of a coastline.
I like the way you dance between the two subjects effortlessly.
I had found another bottle years later; Or maybe I had saved one if ever there was an occasion; Whatever the case, I never got another drop. That evening I had been carrying it with me in my overnight – A few other drinks loosed my focus – When I dropped my duffel I heard it shatter. In disbelief, I reached in and ended up pulling out a few cuts. Seeing it all soaked into my favorite clothes, I laughed and thought it appropriate that at least something close to me got to get intimate with that beauty once more. I could have rushed to take one last sip from the jagged remnants of the bottle. I could have wrung some out of a sweater, surely enough to stretch myself across those memories one last time. I didn’t. I poured myself something harsher, maybe one of those small batch whiskey’s I once liked. I reasoned it better to keep in line with reality than chase ghosts. Time kept running so I had another. In my head I drifted across the water. So this is why they call it spirits.
To really taste something is to take a profound dive into your own fire