Brideshead Revisited
A man staggers into a mansion, clutching a ragged felt bear.
He holds it by the threadbare paw and heads for the liquor cabinet.
Faceted decanters fling the light back into his eyes.
The reflected sun feels like splintered glass.
Any and all bottles are ready at hand, waiting for him
To make a choice (scotch), to take the top off and pour.
This isn't a joke, it's literature, a study in prodigal sons.
Amber liquid, brown bear, tawny, stubbled skin,
Tame bear, wild man, glass palace filmed over with dust.
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