She sat there less bewildered by her environment,

Her focus solely on the product of distillation in her hand,

Why white?

Why red?

Why wine and not whine?

Either way, it was sweet!


Her eye-catching left leg swung,
Back And forth,
Back And forth,
Just like a pendulum,
Unsettled by the force driving it,
She couldn’t take in the punctuality being relayed,
And her comportment said it all.

She taps the mahogany top twice,
In a rather cynical rhythm,
Rhyming with her distorted face,
Had it turned bitter or was it the bartender’s foul scent?
Deterred by the salivating patrons.

It was time!


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