all the same

belly up to some hole in the wall,
obligatory pub o’ the new world potato eater,
dim lamps, flags of erin three inches tall,
stuffed in pints and cylindrical aluminum memorabilia,
on shelves like various plants gregormendelia.
…a stretch,
of mahogany to my left and right, brass rail for steppers,
housewife celebrating newborn reprieve asking for flaming dr. peppers.
it’s been a while, but I’m a piranha smelling blood in the amazon.
i guess I add depth to Hibernian alcoholic pigeonholing,
guinness any day over a night of bridge and bowling.
the first one is sahara oasis water, downed with the tempo
knievel and his son were accustomed.
after the second, I’m defenseless against its bewitching kempo,
i should’ve gone home, ‘cause the third and it’s successors are all the same,
just like white rappers.