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No.3

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Five wines in a row;

starts on Oriental form of prose,

mindful of the rules.

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Six wines on the trot;

oh, five-seven-five, I get it.

World stop moving now!

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Seven wines down the hatch.

Li’l trouble now, in patches

slack-lapses prove it.

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Eight wines, oh dear god!

Such slick-ellipses of thought:

Confidence returns!

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Nine wines, back on top.

World my oystered-pearl once more,

(though grit-clogged with sand).

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Ten wines, I’m replete

Self-deception lets me state,

One too many wines.

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No.3

Erik Kaisson, 2017

 

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