Sliced Bread And Ice Poem by gershon hepner

Of great inventions none are better,
allegedly, than bread that's sliced,
except for drinks that, since they’re wetter,
make you inventive whether iced
or not, although the folk who botch
the universe’s greatest drink,
an aged, single malted Scotch,
by adding ice––it’s not a rink! ––
should be consigned to nether regions,
in purgatory, and left to burn
until they give their full allegiance
to Scotch served neat. I do not spurn
cold rocks in other drinks they mix,
like Margaritas that are shaken
to stir me, after half past six,
when like the kraken I awaken.

7/10/98,1/28/09