Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Red Red Wine

This morning I woke with the taste of red wine still on my lips
my head ached and my throat was dry, the throat thing again
I went out last night and when I smelled the fruit
so sweet and so dark, blood red grown with love, blended and then waiting
waiting to make your head dizzy and fill you with romantic notions
I had to have it flowing down my throat past the worries
past my bruised heart; down to my belly
I had to have another glass and another.

You see if you open the jewelry box there's the little ballerina
she's in a tutu and she's smiling (aren't they all?) and
she has perfect balance no worries
The truth though? That ballerina is dangling on a ledge
she's dancing to distract you
so you won't notice her screaming
and one day you will open the lid and expect to find her there
and she will being flying past the 25th floor

Someone careless will have opened the box
Someone will have handed her a bottle of red wine
and she will drink it from a plastic fish cup
knowing that if he has enough red wine and she's a little too honest
the emotional part will well to the surface and the glass may crash into the wall
someone will step on the shards,
bleed all over and she will be cleaning up the mess later.

But not tonight. Tonight I stopped
well I stopped when I couldn't get the other bottle open
try pulling out a cork from a bottle of red when you are sober
and then try it when you are sure you aren't.
I looked at the photo again and wondered
what keeps him and why
could the obligations of the world be more important
than showing up here now and opening this bottle of wine
and then stopping me after one more glass?

I have been dancing on a ledge for so long
I don't even know fear
When the worse thing that can happen is the thing that you crave
when you are too afraid to pull the trigger
when you are half way through the day and know
it will end like the day before

When you can't get the bottle open
you do without
When the spider is crawling up the wall
you learn how to kill it
When you have to get the piano upstairs
you hire someone to move it, a stranger
When you are worried you are lost
you drop bread crumbs enough for the birds to eat
and enough to find your way home
When you are tired and confused
you thank God you have a Best Friend who wakes up easily
she won't have an excuse
When they say, bring someone with you
you'll shrug it off and smile
Your boyfriend is off somewhere
he's at band camp

"Drink another bottle of wine tomorrow sweets."
She will say and it's easier than sitting across from a priest
and she'll forgive you anything
but tonight I called her to tell her a secret
you see when I was soaked in wine
feeling weepy a little and fragile even
when I was thinking of going outside
and breaking the top off the bottle on the edge of the fence
and down below the perfect casket sized hole dug
there for a flower bed and just sitting empty waiting
there was a shadow that followed me into the house

It wasn't a bird
or my child
or the thief in the night
it wasn't a cat on kitten feet
and it wasn't something I was sure I made up in my head

Batman showed up.
The caped crusader
not the one in the purple tights
the mysterious one
I know, I know wine can play tricks with your head
stir in a little lonely
fold in apprehension and you can make up most anything
this is a worry, not a passing concern
He didn't open the bottle
no spiders around
instead he made laugh and put me at ease
and told me stories turned that cape into a magic carpet
and we rode
we rode like Kerouac and in all the excitement
Somewhere Hunter Thompson was smiling laughing even
throwing his arm in the air, shooting at stop signs
I forgot to be afraid (I'll blame the wine)
and I drank his laughter instead of wine
and finally I felt tired
I could hear him say "you'll be just fine, go to sleep."

Well not yet.
"Hey wake up," I told her.
"You ok?"
"Yes, I am just fine." We laughed and I fell asleep.
Red Red wine, a river of it in my belly
and a life raft in my heart
It's mid day and Mr. Oh So Buzy will stop by
we'll kiss he won't ask me anything I'd like him to ask
He doesn't want to clean up the mess and I am too busy
planning my escape
past the 20th floor
One day he will open the music box
and dancing there will be a girl with darker hair
and her smile will be a little different
a stone sober hoping ballerina
he'll cut out her heart
and throw it in a brief case
off to a meeting of the 'I can't believe we have to discuss this.'
This is so far removed from my life
as I fly past the 14th floor I will raise the bottle of wine
a dead soldier of sorts over my head
and find that last drop
and let it slide down my throat
past the worries
into my belly, a river of hope

This is the part where I encourage you to read some Hunter S. thompson as he was a genius and let's not forget Jack. Jack wrote poetry and ate life, shouldn't we all?

Enjoy the day. You can always find me at or my work at


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