“Twenty-Five Dollar Wine” by John Dorroh

When you spend $25 for a glass of wine,

you know before you let it breathe, before

you stick your nose deep into the glass

to identify the elements of the bouquet,

that it has to be good. You know when your

partner reads the name of the wine, French

words falling off the tip of his lip like skiiers

catapulting themselves off an Ausrtrian ski

jump, that it’s gonna have the power to

send you to bed, make love like you just

got married; that all the world is not so bad

after all; that there’s hope for the immediate

future; that you will succumb to a deep, luscious

sleep that will gently deliver you into the

morning like newly-opened petals of an

exotic orchid. When you have a third glass

of a $25 wine, you will feel like you

have broken the law and that you really didn’t

mean to do it again. But you did and now you

must resign to the fact that you are guilty of

numbing your flesh just for the excitement

of it all.

Whether John Dorroh taught any high school science is still up for grabs. However, he managed to show up every morning at 6:45 with at least three lesson plans for a couple of decades.  His poetry can be found in Suisun Valley Review, Dime Show Review, Indigent Press, Sick Lit, Walk Write-up, Red Fez, and many more. He also likes to write short fiction and rants.