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Sesh
Golden treacle drips like niagra falls,
Phone calls and knocks on doors.
You get the door and I'll get a glass.
A smile all round as we hear that familiar sound.
A crack of a can or a flick of a bottle cap.
Like fresh summer citrus to our ears.
Leave the house after a hard day at work,
Building up a thirst.
Even the dark gravel of the road decorates my sense of smell,
with its tarry velour, my senses open,
And the world now knows, the sesh is on tonight.
The first waft of a bottle, always the best,
Bursts through my nostrils,
Subduing all which crosses it's path.
The carbon dioxide escapes, Crying for she was happy where she was,
It's my turn now my friend, but both of us won't meet a bitter end.
Bubbling through, quick like a Subaru,
The bubbles escape and the marching band inside my can releases it's last hurrah.
But this is only my first,
And tonight my friends, I have a major thirst.
As time ticks by, it's beauty grows.
And with each gulp another conversation flows.
This is the life - who needs trouble and strife when you've got the holy graille in your hands.
Twenty Cans.
Like a zephyr in Guadeloupe,
The smell sparkles in my mouth,
I tilt my head back and savour the moment with a deep breath.
Never may it end, for this is how I wish my life to spend.
Gathering our Phones, Keys and ID's,
We get ready to leave,
Straightening the collar and rolling up the sleeves.
For this is a man's job.
And a trifecta of fantasm awaits,
So lock the door and close the gate.
Spark up a smoke and don't be late.
