sense memory

The pleasure of constricting throat, 
as stuff pours down in beverage time.
In pulsing cadence, gulp and gulp - 
I am what I put in me. Mine.

It's some sublime accomplishment
most barely give a passing thought.
But I am in most moments now.

I notice subtle things I've wrought. 

I take in full, responding fair - 
attentively to all at stake, 
and all in store. I welcome it 
receptively, this me I make. 

But sometimes I distract myself. 
For instance, what was this I drank?
The glass is empty; taste is gone. 

I take step back, detach and thank.