The humid summer air smothered
Like a wet wool blanket
I walked past the bar
And the cloyingly sweet stench
Of barley and hops
Filled my nose in full assault
I hate beer

Memories heavy as air
Assault my senses
Gulping strawberry Boone’s Farm
Chasing the occasional swig
From the Kessler bottle
Pulled from the pocket 
Of Joe’s faded Wranglers

The good ol’ boys
Who barely graduated high school
And were on a first name basis
With the bootlegger two hollers over
Chugging can after can
Laughter replaced by crooked punches 
And scuffling about in the dirt 

The wanna be frat boy
Nearly old enough to be my daddy
With his big flex
That his license was reinstated last week 
Attached to the neighbor girl
Who already had too much 
But doesn’t know it yet

Joe taking it all in
As he tosses another empty can
I force down the vomit 
Gathering in the back of my throat
When he plunges his tongue in my mouth
Before I can push him away
I hate beer