Stout Tuesdays
stout Tuesdays perfectly poured beautifully formed like the Mona Lisa with a wink smooth to drink, gulp it recklessly or sip it slowly, I float languidly into an “arse about face” state, don’t rush it, wait, it’s a canoe cocoon on a weekday afternoon drifting past Egypt transporting me gently down the river Nile of words, words I preserve and craft into verse 3 pints hit softly then the world doesn’t bother me, stout Tuesdays you needn’t tell me twice eight or nine pints more will suffice
