Happy New Year

Writing Under the Influence w/Chinese Democracy Accompaniment

I imagine the barrel. Oak. Nestled, cupping the liquid that is now tantalizing with the aroma of smoke, the amber color as it swirls in my glass, its wide rim indulgence as I breathe in deeply. The glass weighted and reassuring in my hand, like my favored coffee cup, an extension of the quietude in which I enjoy consumption; a luxury I have afforded myself on this cusp, the birth of a new year. I have always loved beginnings best, the sense of wonder and awe in discovery. I long to savor these few quiet moments in which I have stoked the fire of introspection, and like tea leaves shook out to be read, I approach this new year with both hope and trepidation, aware that possibility is both light and dark. Still I hunger for the newness of the year, await the pronouncement of the soothsayer. I let the music play. I am gone lost in the strings, words linger and music moves in and out of my consciousness. Sometimes when I turn the sensors off, I see the color of music. Close my eyes to experience its hue, its translucent richness of brazen gold, red mahogany and along the rift of guitar a glint of obsidian. I become a note as I blend with the sound of his voice, and I allow the words to separate from the music and the poetry to linger in my ears and I sense refinement and a beautiful maturity. I return to the image of the barrel, its metal-strapped belly, how with time it tempers the whisky, and I smile. The only sounds, music and the tinkling of ice as I float the glass to my lips.


An Insatiable Desire for Deja'Vu by Bebe Cook available from Flutter Press