One ‘Makers Mark’ and I become Eudora, who
could pin the absolutely perfect adjective
not condescending, just effective.
Two, and I become an oracle, truth telling loud,
not fortune telling, but as Eudora, by the
descriptive dressed in metaphor.
Wisdom does not survive imbibing two shots of
this potent amber intoxicant, nor any tact.
Descriptive becomes dangerous.
The danger of overstepping, of stepping on toes
loosed upon the unsuspecting, unrestrained.
Clever, acute observation speaks.
Later, walking West toward home, Eudora's gone
leaving me weaving entirely on my own-oh-ho,
a smart old woman all alone, alone.
Michelle Slater (aka Ms.) is a sometimes poet/performer, a short story and flash fiction writer, a once upon a time actor, gardener, and domestic animal caregiver, an occasional painter, a regular blogger and photographer, a yogi, mantra-chanter and meditation practitioner, a New Yorker residing in Manhattan since 1969.
