The Cross of Beer
was technically not beer anymore
because the brew had already been
processed bravely through my bladder.
First I wrote my name in the snow
and then with my steaming pencil
I drew the Cross—and as I stared
at it I felt some pangs of guilt, until
my rolling laughter exorcised them
as I dipped my delicious donut deep
into my Budweiser, and then sucked
out the wonderful essence.
Glenn Buttkus March 2010
You are so on a roll. What's gotten into you??
ReplyDelete:)
xo
Jannie
you ought to stay in this "preparing to retire" mode for a long time. I love this one.
ReplyDeletePeter