Wine tastes sweeter when…

You're out on your own, struggling, doing your own thing.

You're sleeping less than ever, more awake than ever.

Love is a distant memory and an imminent retreat; no, a treat because you're not running from anything.

Cold mountain air sings you to sleep, the smog is impetus to action – better things await.

Hard to believe this is your life and you are 24. How many good years left? Hard to think about.

Your friends, were they your friends? Were they like tethers with all the comforts of home?

And what of your family? They're trusty owls on the wall, auguring visitors.

What of the one you passed up? They say, these new age “secret of attraction” people and maybe they're right but I don't believe it yet (maybe I will) – forgive yourself, there are many more like her but not like her but many more completely unlike her.

And when was the last time you wrote poetry and told the one far away who thought you were close away that it won't happen anyway?

10/19/11