A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
In Uncle Sam’s, the beer is cheap
And served in mugs as cold as ice.
A few, tonight, might help me sleep.
I find some change by digging deep
And tip my waitress to make nice.
In Uncle Sam’s, the beer is cheap.
A weekly paycheck lets me keep
My barstool in this paradise.
One more, I think, might let me sleep.
I’ve got the cash, so what the bleep.
Don’t tread on me, that’s my advice.
In Uncle Sam’s, the beer is cheap.
You’d think to run a tab so steep,
I owned the bar, though, once or twice,
When I have needed most to sleep
And counted empty mugs like sheep,
I’ve found a thousand won’t suffice.
In Uncle Sam’s, the beer is cheap
But buying it won’t let you sleep.
Chris Bullard lives in Collingswood, New Jersey and works for the federal government as an Administrative Law Judge. His chapbook, You Must Not Know Too Much, was published in 2009 by Plan B Press.