Sunday, 8 November 2009

Fresh Fruit

Lime time

Out comes the knife

I avert my eyes

Protecting them from

Wayward juice


That sprays

Into my pint

I enjoy the smell

Of citrus and rind

Freshens me


It’s plugged

Into a beer

Drowning in the foam

Infusing it with

Tangyness


And soon

It lies dried out

Like so many of

The hasty drinkers

Left to rot.


More tomorrow...

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