Muscular and lean with curves in all the right places. Gets tired way out in the deep water and forgets the tools to get back in. An enviable position for the octopus that plays the drums, but not for the dark rich drip of leather. A vanishing of laughter, sharp, but with warnings. In the interlocking thickets, warning is promise and promise is warning.
And they're off. Black and red and blue and white spin headlong into the void and no one's gonna find anything worth finding at the end of it, if there is an end, if there is a close. Apologizes when there's no need, shuts up when there's weakness to defend, worries about being liked. Still and all, the sherry casks bourbonate the vending. Please explain the importance of midnight here, why being on one side of it or the other is worth killing over, worth lying over. This wine is definitely on one side of midnight, the same side as you, or else the opposite.
Streakers of streaky streaks streak past, streakingly streaking their streaks. Their horrible horrible streaks.
Notes of fruit bubble up through the viscous ocean surface. A plum here. A mulberry there. banana-frame in a third place, a slowly slowly popping bubble, something thick and grippy that does not let go. Winks open and closed as the lever turns under the waves, down where there are other wiaes.
Cuts off in just the right spot. Just in time. Exits more gracefully than might have been, having spent its strength on fools
Varietals: Point, line, wave, archyard
Food Pairing: Whatever they're serving up at the yacht club