At The Brewery Down The Street
I moved past yelling at clouds and began emailing vile sentiments to every
advertising executive I could, explaining how their vapid spots are the reason
I’ll never buy their products again. All believed me except the beer companies.
Those suits rebuffed my dispute that a man and a woman smiling and
clinking pilsners on the patio were something closer to kitsch than non-fiction.
If bitterness reflects a false sense of depth — an inability to see beyond hops —
then a six-pack should get you over it quickly, they said. At that point it was hard
to argue much more, over a pilsner, while observing truth at the brewery down
the street. Woman in a red dress, with a well-dressed man. Dark mash thrashing.
As In, Soon
We are both
the feeling of passing traffic on a train
and the grime
impossible to uncrust in the corners of pans
like a reminder
of when we hid inside an air-conditioned
shipping container
during the years-long
haboob.
Opportunities coming with
an element of Xanax.
Loss following and I
dumbed down
its definition.
As in, soon, I’d pack my soul
into a briefcase
and make plans to build
a downtown apartment complex
with a catchy name.
The promise of drywall
and forty boxes packed with
thousands of steel nails.
KG Newman is a sportswriter who covers the Colorado Rockies for The Denver Post. His first two collections of poems, While Dreaming of Diamonds in Wintertime and Selfish Never Get Their Own, are available on Amazon. The Arizona State University alumnus lives in Castle Rock, Colorado, with his wife and two kids.