A Litre Of Wine

A litre of wine The wine in the glass is full the red liquid arches the slightest movement and it will spill over and run down the stem like a bleeding stomach wound trickling down a petrified leg. I bent down and inhaled the wine no spillage and I wondered why it is so many people, in fact more and more drink beer that is no longer a natural brew is it because we are no longer a part of nature and seek and feel more at ease with man made products and we will soon have a diet that fits with the work we are doing, say if you want a double cheeseburger with fries you first have to work shuffling coal for twelve hours, but if you only want to sit writing a simple poem about the country side low fat yogurt for you; if you have written the poem under the influence of a steak you will be censured, made to walk in the park and tell everyone you’re a crock of empty of gold empty of anything a modern society such as networking banalities and get people to buy what they don’t need; men get medals and titles for doing that. So what do I care, but it annoys me that I end up buying a soap which name I have seen on the television and smell like everybody else, yeah…isn’t that just nice?