Ode to a Wine Tool

It was the summer before the end of the world
and I loved my job
waiting tables. At Lula,
that jewel of K-town that is no more.

The wine rep was there that day
before my lunch shift.
He was feeling generous
or was it that he liked my apron?

You were the gift bestowed.
And I didn’t know what I had
until I forgot you one night
and borrowed another.

That cork never stood a chance.
The blunt tip, the bad leverage
left it chewed into chunks
floating in the bottle.

I swore to never forget you again.
But I did
again, to your demise.

This time, I forgot you were with me.
A friend had borrowed, and returned,
so I put you in my purse,
in that pocket I wouldn’t forget.

I wouldn’t forget to remove you
before flying the next day.
Through Atlanta
OH! How secure they are with their Level of Orange.

The man told me
I could take you to the post office
and ship you home.
But I didn’t. The line too long.

And now, my tool with gumption,
I can only hope
you find a new life. Perhaps with the favorite jacket
left in the overhead bin.

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