My escapes always meet

with a sameness of finality

grapes gently plucked from the vine

in dark bottles having conspired

to see that I am sated

with white zinfandel

moderation gone the way

of a New Years' resolution

shattered against the wall

of promises in hell

once every year or so

stupidity overwhelms all reason

myopic vision portends endless joy

at the bottom of a stemmed glass

my day after face

shows the throbbing in my head

for inane judgement

a dear price I'll pay

impaired vision and queasy gut

and so on this morn of intelligence's defeat

I'll salute my quaking body

with a glass of "plop,plop, fizz, fizz"

and hope for

relief that is quick, merciful

from this overindulgence biz