We were at St, Francis Winery
& were trying to find
our way home
when you said,
Hey! Isn’t St. Francis the Patron Saint of Travellers
& I said, yes,
I think he is
so we got praying to St. Francis
but were getting
more and more lost.
Hey! let me check something, I said
so I pulled out my iPhone & Googled
‘Patron Saint of Travellers’
it was St. Christopher.
No wonder we were lost.
We were praying to the wrong guy.
So this time we prayed to the right guy
& cheered up.
The car cheered up too.
It had a bounce in its wheels.
We were on our way.
Any minute now …..
Three nights of frazzled sleep
crammed into four hours on the couch
mellowed by malbec, merlot, mataro
an afternoon of tasting platters & wine samplings
at Penny’s Hill where black-faced sheep slumbered
under the oak; now you slumber so gently:
sweet Lethe has taken your troubles over the border;
you will awaken and forget
the voluptuous girth
yr full mouth
tiny tiny waist
between forefinger and thumb
yr long tapering body
of yr beauty
of yr full-bodied flavours
I don’t know what Pachelbel would make of it but
When I’m put on hold for a wine club query,
His canon plays. Actually I’m a member of a number
Of wine clubs which may say more about me
Than Pachelbel whose canon plays as on-hold music
For each of them.
I would have thought Chumbawamba’s ‘Tubthumping’
would have been more appropriate, if less soothing,
or Roger Miller’s Chug-A-Lug or, for a bit of class,
Mario Lanza’s Drink, Drink, Drink but Pachelbel it is.
I don’t know If Pachelbel was fond of a glass
or two in the evenings
Or when he was composing his hypnotic canon.
He may have been a member of a wine club himself
In which case —excuse the pun — he would be tickled
Pink, especially if a Rose man.
when you are put on hold, are you annoyed or pleased by the music that is played?
have you ever discovered a song though being put on hold?
Not everything survived.
Got off scot-free.
The wine had turned to vinegar
The whole half dozen.
Bottle by painful bottle I poured
down the sink,
while through the side window
the sun gloated.
The wine had been sitting in the glass
for three hot days
when I poured it
& saw the stain
on the side:
a rune-like mark
Of some sort,
Angel or demon,
The drinker’s version of ‘the writing
on the wall’?
A message from another world?
I look at it long
what does it look like to you?