Kiel, Germany.*

I know it's not even lunch yet,
But I'm a poet, so this huge
Beer has no bad feelings

Attached to its coldness.
All ice, hugs and barley.
I love Germany this time

Of the year. Guess I should
Get back on the boat and wake up
The woman,

But there is something about
Cold drops running down
Glass to kiss a coaster that

Makes me want to read what
The cardboard says. So I expose it
With the intentions of a literary

Drunkard: Noch ein Bier Bitte.
I guess there's poetry
Everywhere

To a writing man
Who loves
Beer enough

To write about just
One. Even in
Germany.