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December 31, 2010 / Samuel DiPaola

Inside the Glass

I awoke looking out from inside a glass of red wine.
The view was spectacularly distorted from the bend of the lead crystal walls that contained me.
Friends and family appeared concerned.
Pressing their faces against the barrier, they shouted infinite warnings for me to get out.
I thought it quite amusing to see their red, bloated faces, as arms swung wildly in hair-pulling frenzy. 
The density of the interior was surprisingly buoyant.
I sat not at the bottom of the glass, but floated, suspended within the central portion.
The exterior sound was muffled yet the beating of my own heart appeared amplified by the liquid.
There was no way of knowing how long I had been there, and getting out did not appear to be an option.
I looked down to see my boots and shed clothing lying at the bottom of the glass.
Above, I saw a bright light and what appeared to be millions of fireflies circling as a cloud.
And I waited.

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