Tasting

The art of sipping this wine
is a subtle discipline:
the rule is only
one glass at a time.
Each breath is enough
to inebriate both
body and soul.
Was it your heart or mine
that was a cup
for the other's lips?
Was I the host
and you the guest,
or vice versa?
And who pays the bill?
The secret is,
we don't have to settle.
The tip is incalculable
anyway.

O God, we go reeling
out of this tavern.
Here's my shoulder,
give me your arm.
My devotion to your path
will keep us both
from stumbling.
And here's my chest
with its broken gate
wide open.
I'll make sure you get home.


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