Blush

When Wine
Comes down the stairs
Everyone goes from
Roaring to whisper
The liquid authority roars
Through the room
In red white waves

The wives realize their
Blushed plaid faces
So they remark
On their reaction to alcohol
But their company doesn’t
Seem to care
Because they know
That their wine face
Is mutual

So the crowd’s calm remains
And grows gradually
Back to a slow hum
And then
A clatter and before
You know it
The party is roaring
Again

But Wine is there.
Always He will walk
Up and down
the stairs,
without fail,
Pounding on the shoulders
Of those who refuse
To endorse
His crude etiquette

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