A few sips down: the world floats around and travels just a ways
until it lands upon a moving table with gentle bends and sways.
Everything is new and bright and glittering in brand new light.
The stars would be out if the day were suddenly the night.
A glass or three with hints of burnt French trees
making vanilla dance across the pallet of taste
and leaving me, as tired as can be
barely standing by my own ability.
I'll close my eyes and let
the spinning world
twirl me away.
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