Beer is a poet

I’m not a poet. The beer is.

The beer is typing. The beer has

written and deleted six poems tonight.

The beer is cheap. I bought it at

a rural gas station coming back

from my girlfriend’s thanksgiving.

They didn’t make a lot of vegan

food. I care. The beer doesn’t.

The beer smokes cigarettes. I’m

trying to quit. The beer is a cold

bastard. I cried tonight. The

beer doesn’t miss my friend

who jumped to his death last

month. I do. Every day. The

beer has moved on; why can’t I?

And that’s why beer is a poet

and I’m just a sad drunk - still

coming to grips with suicide.

1 2