Poem: Beer

It’s fizzy and it figures more nicely in songs and stories than in my stomach.
It’s dark and best at night with friends around a glowing table.
It’s light and fills the gap left by gold.
The gold that was replaced by meaningless paper.
The “gold” paper that was in your pocket, now in the till.
It’s amber and fills the gap for gold.
I don’t care for it near as much as I imagine.
I would if I were in those laborious adventures.
Is it that I refuse to be G.K.’s common man?
Or have I been spoiled by the wealth of the whole world at my fingers?
Gilgamesh was a king, but he didn’t have time
for his drink to sit in a sherry cask for 15 years.
He poured the same as the poor farmer from the fields.
And was the better for it.