One last drop remains.
An oily tear chicanes slow.
A warmth reconciles.
Pulsing painful drone.
Ruby digits taunt sleepers.
Monday morning comes.
A drinker’s pub math.
Wallet’s loss gains a soul’s joy.
The whole breaks even.
At the time, I was living in Boston and my beer fanaticism was growing at an alarming rate. Having grown up in Michigan and being exposed early to Founders Kentucky Breakfast Stout (which I've been so very lucky to have had every year since about 2004 or 2005) I tend to believe the hype about Russian Imperial Stouts. I was so excited for Kate Day, but I was very very broke and didn't have access to a car that could get me an hour north to Portsmouth, NH to the Smuttynose/Portsmouth campus so I decided the only shot I had at getting a couple bottles of Kate was through their contest. It turns out I didn't win, but that's what I figured.