when you defined my problematic tongue
as a vineyard of mistake and false fortitude
I was (in my amused distress at your anger)
mildly heartened to realize that to be drunk on such things
is the perfect toil for such a bland and poisoned night
to be a source of such diamond intoxication
is to stand on a small hill amid empty fields
around a stingy town and then demand
that the smug townsfolk provide me with meals
fit to accompany such wine as I may pour
there are worse things in this strained and damaged world
than the hangover of such inebriation as may accompany
the sensation of speaking free and easy truth
as strong as any liquor
you may choose to name

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