beakdip at 31

back in 97
I met you then.
ATL ' ers worn and thin.
wrinkled and withered
weathered and torn
yet the perfect space
for a kinship born
not from the local 'necessity of greed'
or due to "y'all's" strange buddy named 'ceebs'
but because of
the beer in your hand
being held by a grin
and a welcome glow
that ushered me in
(with background mood supplied by the minutemen!)
just a sample shot
of what you give
to friends of old and new.
I remember we sat there on myrtle
as the tunes played
and we griped about
how we hadn't been laid
and frustrations of the town where we stayed
I quickly smiled
and settled in
relishing escape in a new found friend.

happy birthday jefe!






**note the smoothe consolidation of poem friday and birthday wishes. also note the 'e' I put on the end of smooth for a velvety effect.