The words on the box of beer read
BEERS OF EUROPE:
Not just Europe, not just beer.
My brain did a backflip
as my hands turned into feet.
I felt myself unplug from the Matrix,
Ed Harris told me he was God.
The bird in the tree outside my bedroom climbed through the window
and ordered me to scream in his face.
I was born and died and born and dead.
My books started telling lies,
our houseplants leaned towards the shade
and I slipped between the floorboards.
BEERS OF EUROPE:
Not just Europe, not just beer.

© Carl Burkitt 2020