Beer on the porch

"I'll never be that thirsty," she said, looking as if she could smell the stink coming off the beer.

I followed her gaze to the beer, the cans moist and with bits of ice still clinging to the edges.

Looking past the four beers, still joined at the neck by a series of plastic loops, looking betwen the spokes of the bicycles locked to the porch rail, to the end of the driveway. I sat slumped back in the low, green folding chair she'd bought from the ValuTown just down the street.

I have no idea why there were four cheap beers sitting there at the end of the driveway. I'd seen them as I walked back up the street, returning from Ol' Pappy's liquor store with a bottle of rum and some ginger beer. Of course I grabbed them.

A car sped past as I tried to imagine not noticing I'd dropped my beer at the end of a driveway or putting it down for a moment then forgetting. How do you get four cheap beers this far up the hill and then give them up?

"Of course you won't," I said. I ripped one of the cans away from his family and pushed the rest back toward the bicycles. "You see beer and judge whether or not you'd like to drink one of whatever it is based on all sorts of internal judgements. I dont care. When it's sitting there I just see beer that nobody drank yet.

"And dammit! Dont get drunk. The truck's only there till seven." To this I tipped the beer back.

"What time is it now?" The beer tasted awful of course.

"Just now five."

"Aw shit, baby. Ain't nobody gonna eat up all the tacos before we get there. Drink a beer and relax. Thats what Mondays are for."