Within the frosty pilsner
I witness the sunny liquid
bubbles, Pop–
Sun and Wholly spirited
slowly ascending
the opal triangle of transformation
baptism in a well-used cup
transubstantiation.
Seven More! And my name
will have changed
Slurring, lisping, pissing
away the hours–
Spitting all my transgressions
around the buzzing bar
and You upon the cross
grained table. Mea cupa, Mea cupa.
Your sacred power ordains
me to sing your ungodly praises
a union of alcohol and watery wit until
Journey plays
the familiar final rite
before being sent
to prey in the darkened night.
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