Two pitchers of Budwiser!

Toothless locals hunker down over their $ pints of miller.
I Imagine myself to be not unlike them at all.
One pitcher down with a co-worker
One pitcher down with a traveling salesman
named Randy.

Silly pool and prose in a dive bar in Small-Town Colorado.
The Oregon of the Rockies.
No real appriciation for a good pint of beer amoung the regulars here,
just the sappy, wasted, melancholy sweetness of a pint of domestic lager.
A lager born of a life wasted.

Now I do love a good lager or pilsner, they scream refreshment on a day with
100% Humidity
and the mercury holding steady at 96 degrees.
But I can tell that this lager means something else to them, this lager bleeds malcontent.
this lager means Escape.
this lager means trudging through the same
Day-in-day-out of
life in a corn field.
Children you didn't want or plan for
They probably feel the same way about their you.

Simplicity.
Life is simple when you don't consider your options

Sometimes i feel like i never looked at my options either,
but than again,
I don't live in Small-Town America.

Similarly, does my distain for myself run over onto the way I feel about them.
they don't know another way, they never did.
They simply keep on going with what they know.

It's easy to judge, especially after Two pitchers of Budwiser.

Buenas Noches