i’d like to meet a person who
takes pride in this country
and
isn’t
corrupt
or
overeducated
and
underemployed yet still
willing
to spend 9 bucks on an
IPA
because they know there’s
something so delicate about
porches
and
dizzy
the slow
and
the white
the IPA
tastes like
privilege rebelled –
sunny evergreens hopped up on
heady notes of
skipping
work for hurricanes.
‘round here we do
our best to leave
all planning for
tomorrow and
‘round here
they say
you can hold your breath
for longer
than you think but
beware
a town full of water babies
if IPAs could dream, it’d be
you
and
me
friends of the devil
heavy
in
the slow
and
the dizzy
“Drink me down,” you whisper to the whiskey.
we crawl inside
the
empty bottle
of
tennessee honey
hoping
our
screaming echoes will
shatter clocks
the IPA
sits
quietly
and wonders about
your
favorite hiding place.
if the IPA could speak
it’d say
smile
and
repeat
i’d like to meet a person
who takes pride in this country,
someone who knows the
difference
between privilege and freedom.
would they sip their
IPA
slow and dizzy
or make deals with the devil
from
the bottom of whiskey bottles?
‘round here
we treat our IPAs
like broken sundials
we sit quietly
and
never
leave
we sit quietly
smile
and
repeat