Mr. Smooth

Mr. Smooth walked into the store yesterday,

Without a plan in mind.

He smiled as I welcomed him,

Then off to the beer section, he went to find.

. . .

As I was leaving, he asked for my help.

To find some great craft beer…

“I just got back from Germany so…”

“You want to find German beer here?”

. . .

We headed over to the craft beer cooler,

And he pointed out his favorites.

Leinenkegal’s he has tried,

And Alaskan Amber he has savored.

. . .

Along with each one came a story,

Of a place that he once resided.

Traveling with the military,

In all his travels, he prided.

. . .

I offered him some local suggestions:

Bent Paddle, Surly, and Castle Danger…

When I admitted my lack of beer knowledge,

He showed me the kindness of a stranger.

. . .

“Honestly, I don’t know the best of beers” I muttered.

Grabbing my recommendations, he questioned, “Why?”

It’s here I confessed my love of bourbon.

It’s here Mr. Smooth became so fly.

. . .

If I had been twenty years older…

Let me tell ya, let me tell.

I would have swooped him up in a heartbeat.

Giving him no chance, for help to yell.

. . .

He was smooth in starting our conversation,

With stories of far away.

He was smooth in his encouragements.

Just a stranger, making my day.

. . .

I enjoyed his willingness to share his stories with me,

And how he redirected my self-deprecation.

But he was just a passerby,

A one-stop salutation.



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