The Next Great Destination.
No love. No people. No aftereffects.
I didn’t have to worry,
I was already tipsy.
I meticulously look for her, my enemy.
The women next door...
his affair.
His taste varied:
American, European.
Elizabeth, Taylor.
I was dedicated,
he was charming.
Just a taste-- but a taste meant three full glasses.
I found myself lost.
Consumption seems to be my new primary occupation.
Empty rooms and odd morning breakfast.
Daily glasses full of wine and moonshine.
Sprawling on the floor...
Drinking seems to help.
But I become less.

--from  “Is the Country of Georgia the Next Great Wine Destination?”