Beer. Poem by Yael Gutman

Rough, but smooth on the lips
Golden bubbles fuming his
Through the frame, across the wooden floor
I felt a night like no other before

Seconds storming in on me
But time was endless in the rim
Sips led to the droop of the eye
But my spirit was at its highest spike

A kind of time travel in a bar
Losing count of what sense I had
For I was gaining much more in my heart
In a single moment, in a single night

Halfway through a pool of Carl
His' a bottle, Italian bred
Drinking off of our remaining pounds
In a reckless, cruising way

No matter how hard it tried
The motion could not let it dry
For the moment was self-consumed
Drunkly working its way to the head

In and out the system it parishes
Swerves our senses and brightened desires
Longed to expand the time on our hands
Each drop of it manageably rash

Our bodies steadying in its thrum
Disseminated longings to endure
Anything that would get in our way
For the love of a night like one of those.