August Poem 11: Cocktails

A memory in a glass.

A poem retold.

The poet forgotten

But the words remain

As proverb.

 

Barkeeps recite it from memory.

A little too much lemon

Or the wrong base spirit.

The rhyme, too sweet

Or the fruit juice has lost its meter.

 

But the people,

They order their rhymes

Straight up or over ice.

Sip them and enjoy

With the old friends they just met.

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