Italian Wine Guy

A stout, young man, sporting slick glasses and worn jeans owns a store in
     Greenwich Village.
He is my teacher, smooth in expertise, and through his wine tastings I learn.
I want to learn.
His descriptions invoke freedom, so I can describe and feel whatever I want.
Sweet, dry, appealing, appalling, oaky, cozy, rose-scented like my grandmother’s
     underwear drawer.
He admits working countless hours and studies his grapes with ardor and humility.
Italian Wine Guy is convivial, un amica stretta , but only because of our common love.
I leave with eager hands cradling my Barolo like a baby.
Only then,
Do I taste the wine in his words and smell the vineyard soil from where the grapes were
     once picked.
And I am led home.