it's harvest season and early august acidity
lingers on my tongue; the grapes are slightly unripe,
bruised, but they'll make an unforgettable wine.
(if your standards are as low as the ground, that is.)
the older the wine is, the better the taste is;
i'm tipsy off old-fashionedness and traces of arsenic.
the lower the consumer price, the higher the chances
of foul play behind the company doors.
i feel fine (besides the fact that alcohol is
enslaving), but the old man on the news doesn't.
it's not my problem to fix, it's the company's issue
yet i continue to feed them my paychecks.
"it has as many effects inside the body as cigarette
smoking does," says an official connected to the story,
and "it's highly toxic; it's astonishing."
i don't feel fine anymore.