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A few lines written at the Mackintosh Hotel pub in Cardiff, 2016.
by Kyle Mola
O, happy apples!
You please me so!
When my mind suffers, I think
Of your golden juice,
When, in throes of some
Manic idea, some monastic depression,
I think of you, of the pains you calm,
Of the knowledge you feed,
But I digress…
Ah yes, to answer your question,
My dear, no I do not have a
Drinking problem.
I’ve done quite well in my career,
And not so poorly in my hobbies,
If I may.
Drinking I suppose covers both.
No, no problem here, everything
Seems to be in order,
But I must ask; do you happen
To have any ibuprofen? aspirin? heroin?
No? That’s okay…
O happy apples,
Sweet and crisp,
Red and yellow sunsets of a fruit,
Was Perseus born of your orchard’s rain?
Did Eve order two ciders and skip the tab?
Did Strife spill her pint at the wedding reception?
I’m not sure anymore…