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J. W. Murphy

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At the Brewpub
by J. W. Murphy

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

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Recent poems by J. W. Murphy
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*April 15, 2003

Sitting at the Brewpub, trying on beers,
there are a dozen to choose from--
light and dark to wheat and brown---
in this pub reminiscent of Cheers.
Everyone knows everyone's name in here
and the bartender and clients are friends.
The bartender tells stories about her son
while her friends listen, sipping beers.
They are friendly enough, at times,
to let me in on their conversations.
Thankfully, I oblige their gesture.
Finishing the first one and digging the vibe
she asks which one I'd like to try this time.
I decide to try the Blackfoot Ale--
one of several droughts named after local tribes.
Sipping it, I'm struck by the texture,
a mixture of flavors envelop my tongue,
I enjoy the ambiance until it's empty--
then I'm gone, with a passing gesture.

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Reviewed by jude forese 4/15/2003
hic ;) well written...
Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader) 4/15/2003

Had a friend that always said trying on the beers thanks for the memory
"I enjoy the ambiance until it's empty--
then I'm gone, with a passing gesture."
Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader) 4/15/2003
"...trying on beers..."
ROFL...never, never heard it put that way.
Good one...bravo.
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