Ode to my beer sampler at Deschutes Brewery, Portland, Oregon.

Red Wheat: She had a more bitter beer on her lips than I had expected.  She took my breath away and sent it on a bus on a microbrewery tour through Portland. “Why can’t I go too?” I blurted, envious of my own breath. Redheads have always had an easy way with me and her untraditional smoothness made me forget we were sinking even deeper.  As her wheat-colored hair whipped my face, I drank thirstily of her oral cavity. “I’m gonna want a tip,” she said like a sweaty waitress. “Just the tip?” I interpreted incorrectly. She finished me. 

Whiskey Coleman Oak-aged Stout: I was shocked by the taste, locked into curiosity, nay, bewilderment.  The beer knocked on the door of my tongue, ran away when I answered,  knocked a second time with some mustard-covered juggernaut. My house, self-assured knower of basic ales, unprofessional but not inexperienced finally stuttered, “Come on in” and had to redesign it’s kitchen for the guest. “...‘nother whiskey shot,” the beer stated clearly. A virgin to whiskey I gulped again and wondered what prophylactic could protect me as Stout gushed through the windows. 

Genevrier Wit:  Sipping this beer is to lay down in a grass field in the summer with a thin-lipped woman who kisses quickly. Dust remembered from too good a place. A short shower, a subtle power. A tease of breeze on a humid day.  All this to enjoy between good friends. 

Strong Man NWPA:  “Is this beer?” I wondered at first.  So much like...which juice? Papaya? Perhaps. Another sip. The first tongue touch is citrus but the mid and after taste...wait, no....definitely grapefruit juice. A slappy fella.  Rumination: Old Tropical.  Faces: the sky.  Drink: undrownable, thinkable, more than beer. 

Chainbreaker: Full disclosure demanded, this beer broke through my mouths’ walls speaking, “Tell all, tell all!”  A conversationalist, interogatting, IPA. “Why are beer and urine cousins?” “Well, I do remember urine after drinking this beer......and drinking of course leads to urination. If a ‘coner’ is a boner for your cousin this beer has a stiffy as thorough as a bladder  infection. Not bad, mind you. 

Nitro Obsidian Stout: if it was an orgy, I would save you, German Lady, for last.  A truely dark brunette babe with hips I have yet to touch. Take me to your delicious tavern and turn out the lights. After a little, I want alot.  Like to be stuck underground with you after apocalypse. Black out my liver. Midnight my mind. I forget coffee. You delete chocolate. Only you.  I welcome winter.