head through the dashboard

'pop'...there goes the cork on another night...the boy with the five o'clock wake up call comments to the wind, "just like your cherry"...yes indeed, to the girl he never knew, and the bottle he recently met...it is another night on this planet of fools...ripe with the strangers that populate...so it is another night of california wine, get it down no matter how it happens...whether it be the unlikely wine glass, or the coffee mug, or simply the bottle...because as long as it isn't french and takes you away from the open pit, life is good... he waits, sipping from the savior's tit...watching curling matches at three in the morning because someone somewhere loves this sport and he wants to know why...he looks at the clock and two hours of sleep doesn't make a difference, 'cause he will be sleeping again soon...we will all be sleeping again soon...what's another hangover in honor of the likes of the napa valley...he's been watching curling for three hours, but he already knows more than the lifers do...he watches for three hours only to see one highly pressurized mistake take that sonofabitch back to minnesota to make pizzas, when even he, the son of dionysus, sitting crooked in his chair, knew the proper move...and he watches teens and lechers from the prettier parts of his country speak like saplings...but instead of ultimate exuberance, the night grows longer and the cold grows colder...the jungle wild, creeps in...