Summer of Seventy-eight inside the Texas Brewery

concrete stretches
puddles on the floor
worthless wretches
puzzles on the door

red tiles gleaming
stainless pipes aglow
just a few folks
seem to really know

brown bottles clinking
sliding on their way
people all are drinking
living through the day

white cans are flying
like birds upon the wing
buzzards are lying
mocking birds still sing

frozen frigid cellars
your breath is icy cold
beery fortune tellers
have tales that must be told

torrid killer summer
steaming all the time
what a solid bummer
slipping in the slime

angry people yelling
oe'r the constant roar
the aged soaker smelling
and memories galore

see the rednecks grinning
swatting at their flies
always staring through you
with dense and vapid eyes

August 12, 1978