Booze, Hooch, Swill, Liquid Nirvana.
Silkened streams of altered reality, ambrosia that fills
cups of courage, bravado and flirtation.
The bottles stand in grouped lines, a cornucopia of hues.
They smile as the lie in waiting to be chosen.
Or maybe I just think they do. There is a grace within
the internal sway as it moves inside the bottle. In any
given moment, you flow through, heightening the senses,
broadening the limits, till none remain. The lights
become
brighter, merging into a dazzling spotlight. Gladness
filling
in the blood, heart and every expression.
The elixir roaming freely, unbound and seductive.
Libidinous
and carefree thoughts take a seat at the table, each
waiting their turn.
Plotting to see who will reign. You dance, poured into
the glass.
You are wide as you rise midway from the bottom before
settling.
Though all have their preference, I am most fond of amber
and crystal
nectars. As I enfold to you, as glass edge you rise to
greet me.
Your scent secondary only to your taste. Worthy alone,
I mix you with other solutions to make you even better.
And when the right effect is attained, you’ll sit back,
sated.
For your job will be done and you have done it well.
