Budweiser

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king of beers, with
horses trotting through snow
men holding cans
red and white
etched on coolers, on
tap handles, pulled by
bartenders, all over this
land, we love to
drink it up, cold
those majestic bubbles 
eventually go stale sitting in
plastic red cups, or on
stained shoes, missed drips
unsteady moments, swerving
to get home
no, not royalty
but it can rule us
this little liquid
we love it so

Homeless Ice Cream

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every morning i drive by ben & jerry’s
haight-ashbury, hippie history 
he sleeps on sticky stairs 
remnants of mint chocolate chip, the
sugary smell underneath sleeping bag
comforts his drunk, drugged out body 
pressed against concrete like
ice cream against waffle cone, but
this isn’t dessert, i think 
of the hundreds of tourists’ feet
smiling, licking 
walking on his bed