What a way to go - to drown in a glass of champagne.
Looking from the inside out at the party, the band is playing an up tempo tune that you remember from your childhood, but it is muffled, distorted, from that sweet dry effervescence that once filled his heart and is now filling your lungs. The chatter of the party goes fuses in with the bass beats until all you can hear is the fermenting sugar going wild as it let loose in the rocket shaped glass.
The bubbles get into your eyes as you struggled to focus on a past love that was being wooed by dark haired socialites. Everything turns sepia; the old age of the grape shows its ugly side.
It was like a 1920’s comedy of errors shot in three days because of budget cuts.
The socialites are circling around your old flame like a cackle of rabid hyenas, showing their teeth and their tails to each other, jumping in the air like show dogs to the sound of her coquettish laugh.
You stroke with all your might but you don’t know which way is up anymore; you are suffering from a case of The Bends. You free-dive deeper “in-glass”, the tannins in your head are ready to burst.
For you there will be no great escape. You won’t have a chance to breath.
As you go deeper, your head is fizzy and dry, you see your old flame leave alone, her red train leaves a red wet mark on the floor. You become light-bodied and are beginning to ferment.
Finally you close your eyes, breathe in the tangy thick semi-liquid. Let your body float, carbonate.
Your soul, your dreams, your truth will be realized like those fleeting effervescence of a grape; through your rigor-mortis.
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