The KerchiefThe prohibition of spirits, alcohol, whiskey rhy and wine ferment chilled ever so slightly, was a mystifying eccentricity that permafrosted constitutional policy and the monkey bound government perpetuated. The penalty for consumption or distribution was complex, ranging from transport to an engaging battle front along the Canadian united States boarder to shambling confinement and hard labor.
She secured the kerchief to the back of the knapsack in a perfect square. Pinned along the seams and corners, the bladder inside was full of dandelion wine. She made her way past the checkpoint without being questioned or searched. The voyage was worth the trip and the fray would enjoy the unsullied tribute to freedom. The manner of designed thirsty endurance was willing to sanctify the allure of the bare bones ambition, the ambition to call the name of dandelion wine and fermenting spurting geysers of Chardonnay a-la-rose blush and yellow weed. Dandelion need she thought. They would toast her, “Here’s to dandelion!”