Take time out for poems dealing with the heart’s condition.
When we sit down at the table,
fear not that there will be pot.
Clear heads will be held high
to mind reds come out on top.
Champagne, on the other hand,
will be on my right, or I swear
as bubbles gather in golden wine,
we will toast the fire-bomb finish
of the single worst treaty ever
birthed in N. America
for repeat in Asia.