Highball Poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

I frequent publicans and their beer houses
When summer deems it fit to kill
How else do I frighten time, fast or slow?
I have my way with vengeance upon the slowness of
Everything slow
The divagation of the seasons —especially when winter
Snowballs and buries all hate.
But that is another matter
For another tatter.
Now, it's summer!
And I hate to be flustered by heat.
Let's hit the road and grab some highball.
Full-spirited beer flowing with froth
And elevated chillness!
Gold-and-white barm
Bubbling with the brio of the sun:
The quirks and quiddities of summer
Waste no more time with hebetude:
See you at the bar.
Come, let's drink and belch loudly.
The publican has posted a new sign:
IT'S SUMMER!