Saturday, July 12, 2014

A Poem by Marc Carver

Free Festival


The woman with the Italian name
she kept after marriage
told us that
in this special farm
they milked the cows to classical music.
A picture came up in my head.
Two cows with their udders hooked up
Not this bloody Rimsky Korsakoff again.


At the free wine tasting
all the people sat at the tables
sipping their wine.
I threw it down my throat as soon as I could
and then waited for the next bottle to come out.


At the cocktail masterclass,
we all tried some of the cocktails afterwards.
I saw the server with the last jug so I ran over to somebody else's table
and told him to fill me up.
"You have some of the white one in their do you want a fresh glass?"
"No, I don't care, throw her in."
The table burst out laughing,
but I was deadly serious.

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