Hope or despair, I can’t decide

Free beer, I’ll say, though there is no free beer.
Maybe heaven will serve drafts gratis,
a little cheer-me-up to brighten the spirits.

If it’s not just a bait and switch
where we show up shopping for Utopia
but the shelf is stocked with Hell.

When my $2 weekly lotto comes in –
then there will be free beer.
Not for me, but always for you.

No Guinness, though,
nor any dark beer.
No hoppy or bitter brews.

My free beer will be how I like it:
sweet and fruity and cold, coaxing
a deep sigh on a hot, sweaty afternoon.

Heroes, I’ll say, though there are no heroes.
Oh, some people perform heroics,
rescue a stranger’s dog when it falls overboard.

But we don’t like to hear
how the same hero goes home
and beats their kids.

But, oh, how we need heroes and free beer
to escape headlines filled
with conspiracy and no-charge drive-bys.

Heroes, free beer, and long novels
I can plunge into and wander until lost,
a hero drinking beer on the house and kicking ass.


Note: The first line of this poem (italicized above) is the final line of the poem “Free Beer” by Diane Seuss.

©2023 Kenneth W. Arthur