Last Minute Merlot

Grapey, grainy, grippy, grippy, granola. Hooray for the mulberry leaves! Hooray for the easy drinkability! Hooray for you! Hooray for me! Hooray for the long days of summer!
Buggy, hot, humid, dirty, rough, regretful. Give it up for laziness, for artichoke blossoms, for someone else's troubles. Give it up for a 50th birthday party. Give it up for one with one hundred zeroes. Give it up for russian dolls, fruit punch, thick hot chocolate with spicy hot pepper mixed. Give it up for gimmicks. Give it up for twist endings. Give it up for a special frame.
Pairs well with seven jewish children, doncha know? Hot dish with marshmallow on top? What the hell. Don't supply your oxygen too readily to the palate without proper ventilation first, without proper Y chromosomes showing you the way from teh sky to the ground and a gentle marzipan landing. It's like candyland in here, or the lockers of the gay men's health crisis. The latino health crisis, the gods of files, the giant olive frog, the grilled onion fritters, the gammy orthopedic filling, the green ornamental frump, the gladly owned family, the gimped out fucktoy, the garrish ocean fires. The small grey can drinks from the lazy dog and you drink from the lazy, late harvest, overweaned, underappreciated, outer ringed, keg of glory. All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
Winters in spain, some dogs barking at your hells, some people have all the luck and sometimes there's nothing left to do put some more oak in, leave it for a few generations, hope mankind survives, hope our tongues don't evolve into moderate psychopaths.
A grand old flag, a high flying flag. A glowing purple amulet buried in the mud. Supersmart mice from experiments get some help from a passing crow who don't know nothing but love, red currant juice, celery salt, fresh varnish, hopeful puppydog eyes, and cream.
Such a finish! What a finish. Did you see the finish? Oh I'm having a heart attack for this finish, so smooth and silky and silty and satinate. What a finish! Brown and red flecks in a perfect receding iris through the glass of glasses through the glass of the window of the train as it pulls away into more receptive climes. Not a hint of sorrow. Not a bit of loss, except for the long list of big ones. Sweet and happy.

Varietal: Low bridge, everybody down
Food Pairing: Matzah brie with or without salmon