someone spilled the wine
and it created a red river on the floor
that i may or may not clean up
if i was a dog i would lap it up with my tongue
if i was a cat i would avoid it with my nose in the air
if i was my mother i would be quick with the mop
but i’m me and me is gonna do nothing
because wine should be free to go where it wants
on the floor, in a glass, down a throat, in a recipe
under a table where it can puddle, drip, pool
or go on a search for the true meaning of life
i believe in the wine
.
StoryGirl 