a drunkard’s nigh upon late

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The prudent alternative to slamming glasses down in

a public brewhause  would be to kindly speak to your neighbor

and, with an audible speak, say “Well surely my my that brew was so good” ,

  for this is not a mad barren outpost among the thieves and scoundrels

where bloodied specters ransack ceremony.

The woodened tables at which we slobber have forthrightly hosted

the best of your despairs and our lies, and so why not yell as would a humble man

digesting his peas and burping quietly.




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