Pabst Blue Ribbon

I do my best to hide the rust,
the age.

I want to be a stallion once again!
Hard, ready to let ‘er rip!

No conversation needed,
Elvis, all action.

In the messy sweat stained yellow armpit  afternoon,
I throw back a beer,
cheap ol’ “dad’s” beer,
“PBR”. 

No fuckin’ imported shit. 
That stuff, 
well, I cant read the lable anyway.

I mean, what the hell does an Å sound like?

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