Irish Ruby

The smooth glass presses
against my palm as I hold it
at a perfect forty-five degree
angle.  As I tilt the
bottle, the elixir flows
down the side of the glass
like a creamy black waterfall.
When the bottle is empty,
I set the glass down and
watch as light and dark slowly
swirl and dance, like a lava lamp
made of chocolate and caramel,
the darkness rising as
the light recedes.  Now
the glass is
almost black, with a thick layer
of firm white foam.  I raise the glass
so it catches the light, glowing
a deep ruby red, then inhale the
sweet smell of burnt barley.  I tilt it
towards my mouth, and enjoy
the bitter, slightly nauseating
taste on my tongue, soon
fading into chocolate,
roasted nuts and cream.  When
the last trace of foam has
vanished from the bottom of
the glass, I open the cupboard,
take a bottle,
pour myself another.