It’s now late afternoon Friday. The time has come, my friend, to release you from the glass pantry that imprisons you. You are lonely again and so am I. I’ll be gentle with your fine glass frame as I lift you off the shelf and bring you to the dining room table. Gentle as a dove. I’ve neglected you long enough, a week in fact, and for that I’m so sorry. Let us commingle and make merry. Let us revel in the thrill of intoxication so that I don’t know where you end and I begin. Come, let us set sail on the sea of oblivion. We shall solve the world’s problems this very evening, or the devil take us! I can sense your eagerness, your anticipation, as I twist off your waxy top, my Army shot glass and a glass bottle of Mexican Coke standing at the ready. I long for you, as the gazelle pants for water on a desolate savannah. You tease me with your playful trickle down my gullet. I shall leave aside the Coke on this first round, for I want you to myself. I want to savor your amber sparkle as I hold you up like a prism to behold the last bit of sunlight through you. I see a better world and a bright horizon on the other side, a place of rest and repose. Everything else is darkness.
