Whiskey Kisses

He thought of his wife,
then looked at his watch.
In his glass, amber whiskey,
smooth as water,
whispered
to be whirled.

Up to him, the woman whirled--
nothing like his wife.
With moist red lips, she whispered,
"Would you like to watch
the moon rise on the water?
Bring the whiskey."

He thought perhaps her name was Whiskey.
Cascades of red-gold hair glittered as she whirled
away towards the water.
No, this wild one was not his wife.
He glanced at his watch.
"Still time," he whispered.

"See the moon," she whispered
near his ear. Her breath was whiskey-
sweet. He wanted to watch
her red lips, but she whirled
away again. No, not like his wife
who was afraid of water.

The swollen moon floated on the water.
Gentle waves whispered,
"She's not your wife."
He drained the last amber drops of whiskey
from the bottle, then cast it away. It whirled
end over end. The woman turned to watch.

The bottle splashed. He looked at his watch,
then at the water.
His mind whirled.
The woman whispered,
"We need more whiskey."
He wished she was his wife.

"Forget your wife," she whispered.
"We can share whiskey kisses by the water."
His senses whirled, and he did not look at his watch.