Some jazz and a glass of shiraz
wild black currant and black pepper—
making me sloppy-tongued and rosy.

Even though I try to pace myself
I am a varietal drunk—
wine and trouble is the only pairing I know.

Oh pinot noir!
Your ripe cherry scent seducing me
with notes of clove and allspice—
you played me like a blood-red violin.

Red red wine you make me feels so fine
until the memory curtain drops to black
long before last call.

The morning after—
a purple-stained mouth
and sobriety crushed over sour grapes.

—Candice G. Ball