Bacchus
Two French birds and one American lad sitting at a French café in the West Village when the waiter arrives and said lad is street watching when all of the sudden,
“Ménage à Trois, s’il vous plaît,”
and as if an archer with eagle eyes had shot a perfect volley from afar my attention shatters in its place. My head swivels on its axis to attention, pupils dilated and instincts sharpened.
“…Et trois verres de vin rouge.”
I only hear that accent. Eyes scan left, then right. Finger snaps and I’m back in the moment.
“Didn’t realize we’re on the fourth course,” I think I say to myself.
And a bottle of red red rouge arrives on the arm of our waiter, white cloth, corkscrew and three red wine glasses.
“Life is good,” I gesture to my continental girl friends and they smile back.
The waiter pours and Stéphanie indicates that I’ll be swirling and tasting so I swirl and I taste and
“…a nose of forward fruit and tickling of young and ripe saucy jam in a glass. Pour away! Santé!”
Birds are imbibing and chirping away in French and I snatch the bottle from the table and have a look. 
FOLIE À DEUX
Ménage à Trois
Take a walk on the wide side and
explore the pleasures of our
Ménage à Trois. Succumb
to the seduction of dark, rich berry
with a hint of pepper, a lush
lingering finish leaving you
wishing for more…
Then I notice the bottle’s nearly drained of its nectar and I whistle at the waiter and motion to get another served up right quick and the girls nod in agreement, “Oui oui!”
“Voilà!” the waiter cries out as he pops the cork out of our second bottle and pours away. By now my palette’s catching on and I’m sensing the flirtatious young trio of red fruity Merlot sandwiched between sensuous spice of Zinfandel and a firm backbone of Cabernet Sauvignon tannins titillating the tongue and who knows what else but forget the hors d’oeuvres just bring more vino and a lingering finish leaving me wishing for more…
“Mon chéri!” Ton première du film à TriBeCa!”
