Wood panel basement. Stemless crystal. Ten dollar wine.

Thanksgiving in soul-less suburbia. Oakville. A reminder of the "Tough Times" of Yesteryear. No proper glasses. No proper wine. But it's wine nonetheless. Drink. Thank goodness for drink. Drink transports me. To places I've never been. To a self I long to be. With drink - tonight - I can be in Toronto and be a Torontonian - though I am submerged in the faux wood panelling of suburbia. The cultured are at cottages drinking up black lakes, green pines, maple trees on fire, while I drown in brown and beige and grey. But I have drink - such as it is.