this beer
cant’t help but
to cry,
as it sits on the bar counter.
it’s open weeping
so intense,
it makes me wipe
my hand on my pants
as I sip.
so cold.
so delicious.
ain’t it funny
how despite its
own melancholic episodes,
it still pushes along,
and helps me through my despair.
god always blesses a good Samaritan.
pour oil on my wounds,
but save the wine for later, 
for when i’ve had a few more drinks.