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