Dreamland

Ryan orders a glass of Hogue Late Harvest White Reisling, following the bartender to the back. He returns to the round table, across from me, where he turns it upside down on the table. I jump back, but it hasnt spilled a drop. It hovers there in the glass. He's possessed, or there's a grand trick behind it. He bites a baby lime off the bottom of the stem, the size of a pea, and holds it between his front teeth. Now he lights a little candle where the lime was, I smell the lit match, the wine, and the lime and wonder what it reminds me of. He flips the glass rightside-up, downs the wine in a few breathless gulps, and puts out the candle with his tounge, then spits the lime into the empty glass, with a smirk of pride to great the applause of mastering this complex drinking techinque. Later, between conversation, he lazily munches on the glass as though it were a snack, like a bowl of chips.