Green Fairy Wine

Green Fairy Wine
© Surazeus
2023 01 22

While driving my yellow Volkswagen car 
along the sun-drenched California coast 
to Hippie Town in the Summer of Love, 
I find myself, teleported to Paris, 
driving down crowded Boulevard Montmartre 
in elegant age of the Belle Epoque. 

Slamming on the brakes with intense surprise, 
I stop before I hit Charles Baudelaire, 
the dandy Flaneur in black leather cloak 
who glares at me from under black top-hat, 
then offers me the Green Fairy Wine, 
so I drink sweet spirit of Artemis. 

When Baudelaire glides in the morning crowd 
I follow him through La Samaritaine 
down long tunnel beneath maze of the city 
to the secret Temple of Libertas 
where Lutetia sits on gold lion throne 
in ermine robe and crowned with ring of diamonds. 

When the white raven swoops from the oak tree 
to flutter wild angel wings past my head, 
my vision blurs as I feel the world shift, 
then wake by cottage near Windermere Lake 
to see Lou Salome in long black skirt 
as convalescent dozing in oak chair. 

Propped by swan-feather pillow in sunlight, 
that shimmers on garden of herbs and worts 
among trees with apples, peaches, and plums, 
Lou Salome breathes soft as butterflies 
that fan frail wings on book of poetry 
open on her lap called Les Fleurs du Mal. 

Soft lake breeze plays with curls of chestnut hair 
as her hands rest on book of poetry, 
so I approach to kiss her parted lips, 
but catch quick glimpse from corner of my eye 
of sun-haloed Helius by the plum tree 
who strums strings on the lyre of Mercury. 

But when I turn to see the God of Light 
I find instead the mustached Friedrich Nietzsche 
pulling two-wheeled cart heaped with purple pears, 
so I hand him star lamp that fell from Heaven 
which he carries to the Mountain of Skulls 
to search for the putrified corpse of God. 

Entering Duino Castle on rugged cliff 
that overlooks sparkling Gulf of Trieste, 
I wander endless mirror maze of myths, 
where mask of every god mankind has worshipped 
smiles at me from Museum of Lost Souls, 
then write holy hymns to Eurydice. 

Emerging from Hades into bright glare, 
I gaze at tall Statue of Liberty, 
whose Book of Wisdom enlightens the world, 
then pray to Athena with arms upraised 
for truth about real nature of the world 
who shows me atoms swerving in the void. 

Teleported back home to California, 
I walk lush trail around Lake Siskiyou 
to gaze at snow-frosted peak of Mount Shasta 
as I convalesce in timeless paradise 
far from ravages of disease and war 
so I can find rebirth from fires of Hell.