I'm in a love-affair with Malbec -

a grape which does not ripen well in France,
but, nevertheless, is an ingredient of Claret
from Bordeaux (accompaniment
to many a meaty English feast),
and the chief or only grape
in the dark wine of Cahors (farther to the east).
It grows better in southern Russia,
producing the black Cahorski wine
the Romanovs and Turgenev liked.
It grows better still in southern South America
and, at its best, yields up a deeply plummy-
raspberryish wine with erotic undertones
of sweaty perineum - just like the Mourvèdre
grape from farther south in France,
which grows better (as Monastrell) in Eastern Spain.
I have an intimate relationship with Malbec.
He fills me with profound delight
and eases my mere modicum of existential pain.