At a steep angle
The bottle does glug
The glass fills fast
With awe I gasp
Stops my worries in their tracks
A salt line to a slug...
A taste of freedom
Down my throat
Worries jettisoned
My sacred medicine
Temporary isolation
Just a tidal moat...
Why are we here?
I don\'t remember
The summer gives way
To the misty mornings of September
Early dementia
Who are you?
At depth I yearn
For bioluminescent blue
You feel the dark cold?
I feel it too