(Governor Tom's Note: This is one of the poems I wrote for a four-week poetry workshop in Prague in May and June of 1999. It was part of the masters of creative writing program at USC, from which I graduated that December. After the third week of classes, a classmate and I took a weekend jaunt to Hungary. We spent Friday and Saturday in Budapest. On Sunday [June 13] we took a two-hour train ride eastward to a small town called Eger. On the west end of town is a small valley called the Valley of the Beautiful Women. Built into the hillsides along both sides of the valley are wine cellars, about two dozen in all. As luck would have it, Sunday is the day when they have free wine tastings. So my classmate and I sampled some of the wares. Feeling awesome in no time, we bought a jug of the juice at one of the cellars before traipsing up the hillside and parking ourselves in the grass to get totally wasted. What I could remember of the occasion inspired me to compose the below ditty, which I included in my final poetry collection for the class the following week.)
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I'm sitting on a hillside in Eger,
Listening to the breeze hum softly and sway the stems
Of the towering grass against my stubbled cheeks.
The setting sun turns the clouds
Into pink-lined quilts that I long
To rest on.
The cup of Chardonnay in my hand
Reminds me of apple juice,
One of the addictions of my youth.
When I sip it, I let the liquid linger
On my tongue, blooming its buds with excitement.
I fight my mind's slackness
So I can focus on the chess game.
On the other side of the board,
My friend slouches on her elbow,
Also losing her concentration occasionally
To the chorus of bugs, the buzzing of birds, and the creaking
Of the bent tree against the push of the wind.
Without warning, we laugh.
At first, we don't know why,
But then we realize it was the tickle
Of the amber horizon against the calm sea
Water of our eyes.
