Brewing Time
unaware, you become
resigned to
where you find yourself
relieved there’s no rush
to hit the road again
the road will be there
it never ends
you’d rather stay awhile
make some friends
enjoy a short stop
at a wayside brewery
pulling over
you scrutinize the long list of brews
names you haven’t heard before
the bartender smiles as he explains
the dark and the pale
you’re tired of the same old stout and ale
you ask for the hoppiest he can recommend
you take a swig, a sharp tang on your tongue
tells you it’ll do
the road has a long wait
it’s going to be quite a while
before you’re ready to move
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
I drop pebbles slowly
watch them fall
in a shallow stream -
she reaches out
touches fog
she had hoped
for the sun -
Walk me through
your caveshow me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom. -
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
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