That euro-trash chick you met at a noisy bar in Venice Beach hitch-hiking through SoCal. She carried one change of clothes and didn’t own a comb, but always got the spotlight, said brilliant things in 4 languages and wanted to see Santa Cruz. Three days later you were in Big Sur, broke, out of weed, and fog dripped from the trees, drenching everything. She called her daddy in France and parted for Oregon late after a bonfire by the creek. You lit your last cigarette and pointed the car back towards warmth, a smile on your face and her necklace on the mirror. Maybe your boss would forgive you.
Yeah, that’s this wine.
2009 CLOS DE LOS SIETE Mendoza Argentina Bec/ME/Cab/SY/PV 57/15/15/10/3 14.5
Stephen McConnell 