The Great American Beer Festival
Once, I slept in the home office of a Coors heir.
It was larger than my bedroom at home,
its shelves filled with nicely bound books.
A giant globe took up one corner,
a broad desk about the size of my car, in another.
The split level house, nicely decorated
featured an attached triple-car garage
which held his choices of Mercedes.
Maybe people like him and his customers
and various “beer geeks”
have a reason to celebrate beer,
but not victims of drunk drivers,
domestic abuse or alcoholics.
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