The Shade of a Swizzle Stick

The shade of a swizzle stick Clank to a glass Stirring of wet stuff Cooling of gas Pleasure from drinking Washing it 'round Gushing then gobbling Drooling it down Clunk; there's an ice cube Frosted in vision Sunken till risen Expanding with fission Spinning the cherry In circles that narrow Mulching the flavours Till bones fill with marrow Blending the colours In one seemly manner Tasting the sword Through lips you have gored Stabbing the olive With one splintered pick Tasting the olive In one bite that's quick Laying the napkin Aside of the glass The glass starts to dribble The waitress walks past