Sake - O

Walking into the convenience store at 8am to buy breakfast, I passed an OAP cracking open a cup sake outside.



I wandered reeking in a cloud
That stank on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
A gross of golden bottled pils
Beside the shochu, beneath processed cheese
Glinting and sparkling at my dis-ease

Continuous as the Toyota’s that shine
And sparkle on the raised highway
They stretched in a never ending line
Along the aisle to the doorway
Ten bottles saw I at a glance
As I tossed my head in a sprightly dance

The one-cups beside them danced, but they
Out – did the one cups in quality
A drunkard could not but be gay
In such a well brewed company
I gazed, and gazed, but little thought
Of the wealth with which such brews be bought

For oft, when on my futon I lie
In vacant or insensitive mood
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of drunken – hood
But then my heart with terror fills
I chose the one cup, not the pils

(apologies to Wordsworth)