An Ode to Wine

Does “ode” mean smell?
I think it does ’cos the wine I drink is very odorous.
And when I drink it,
Finally sorrow makes sense.

Finally I can grasp imaginary happiness
And squeeze it to death.

Finally I can cry into the glass
And it’s half emptiness becomes brimming.

And finally I know there is no hope but I don’t care.

4 11 2006