Excerpt:
We are both half full and pretending otherwise.

H2: First Sip

Color pours before thought.
Red settles like memory.
Somewhere in the background,
a pig exhales philosophy through a pink horizon.
I swirl existence — it has good legs.
Ich taste the present tense.

H3: Dialogue Across the Table

Pig: You drink what I dream.
Glass: You reflect what I spill.
Pig: Are we art or accident?
Glass: Same thing, dear.
And so they toast to imperfection,
the universal vintage of being.

H2: Oenology of Oink

The nose: earthy, with a hint of laughter.
The palate: velvet confusion,
notes of sunset and self-awareness.
Finish: eternal, or at least until the next pour.
Every sip a confession in liquid form.

H3: Closing Refrain

When the wine is gone,
color stays.
When the pig leaves,
the glass remembers.
DADA raises an invisible flute and declares:
“To the art of spilling beautifully.”