This Poem Isn’t About Wine
How did I choose the wine?
There are so many flavors to keep in mind.
Taste is so difficult to define.
Categorize the wine into “red” or “white”,
but there are so many subtler kinds.
I picked the one I’d prefer to imbibe;
Never mind which, never mind why.
(That’s not what I mean to describe.)
But I couldn’t get the cork out of the stem.
I couldn’t get the cork out on the first try.
I broke most of the cork off and then,
I couldn’t get the cork out on the second try.
It’s so simple to use the device and to use it right:
Twist until tight, and then unwind.
The bottle would not yield the wine,
because I buried the cork deep inside.
I didn’t dare break the bottle at the neck.
That wouldn’t be dignified.
OK, fine, I wanted the wine.
I couldn’t keep my desire in check.
I wanted that bottle to wreck, to see it break,
and to get quickly at the stuff inside.
I’ll try one more time, keeping in mind:
Twist until tight, and then unwind.
(I’ll try again if that’s what it takes.)