Write Wrong Drink Right

"you write it for me!"  i've taken a stern tone with the freshly opened bottle of wine.  looking at it crossly, i'm not paying attention to the label.  it's a red, perhaps a cab or maybe a merlot.  at second sip it's likely that affordable cab/merlot i grabbed off the shelf a few weeks back.  "for the price i'm sure it's drinkable", i thought out loud.  if it blows me away i can always note the label later.

weeks removed from that harmless purchase, i'm now talking with the once ignored bottle.  in truth the exchange of words is more the soliloquy of a desperate writer who lost his voice.  so I talk with a bottle, "you wirte it for me." i repeat.

inspiration has left me. my muse gone, i search for her in the most cliche places.  in a bottle (one must wonder) how drunk of me to look for a genie in a bottle.  my words are best when they resonate with the divine, no trite genie.  I should get down with a goddess.  Pondering the thought of get'n down, i enjoy the rest of the nameless cab/merlot.

after the bottle it's back to work.  this life doesn't write itself