tell me about the time you met Ernest Hemingway, sure, i was a fencer, prodigy, too strong? he had heard about my riposte skills, fighter, he was, you could tell, mostly with staccato sentences, had a bottle, always tucked into his sports jacket, whisky of whatever sort, we were in alicante, long copper top bar, anyway, he was curious, listened well, slurred his words, still wanted to learn, i was young, impressed with his name, hemingway, like a british rainstorm, a small torment, wet human, sad inquisitive eyes, could you sense how he would end? this was a few years before ketchum, before, well, you know, and no, i couldn’t surmise, it was the 50’s, eisenhower, golf, before sylvia plath, anyway, i thought he’d live forever, i guess he kinda did.
Tag: Alcohol
Mexican Resort During Christmas
in the pool, they are tan with a cocktail in hand, the buzzed on winter vacation drink corona, tecate, modelo, cold cans and bottles reflect sun-drenched bodies, dipping tortilla chips in guacamole, pacific ocean december sunsets and gracias por la cerveza, bartenders wear red & white hats, but i can’t imagine santa visiting here, where footballs splash near plastic margarita glasses, and waiters wear fake smiles while working christmas eve, i try to find the deeper meaning in this alcohol and chlorine, relaxation, i suppose, but all i see is vapid sunshine, starlight without a soul.
I Am A Beer
hold me in a bottle
wrap your fingers around
my label, place me
carefully on a pool table
i help with conversation
will make you a man
give you something to do
wanna grab one of me
after work? sure thing
i invented liquid courage
beer muscles, and who
said you can’t win
with me you will punch
all night, or say hello to
him or her, or that person
sitting over there, don’t
stare too long, drink me
like you mean it
with time, you will
love me, but i’ll
never love you back
Daniel W. Polk 