Caledonian Double Dark Oatmeal Stout

life suddenly appears in slow motion.
the brain, inspirational but ephemeral,
leaves the body and floats above the table before us.
conversation, with no physical evidence of existence
remains a permanent fading record
slowing as the battery runs down.
the door shuts and the lights go out
freezing us in no time, timelessness that is.
finishing the glass, the reality of responsibility
raises its unwelcome head and leaves for the door
which, open, sucks me into the cold wind outside.
my coat buttoned up and collar raised I, head down,
return to normality and the noisy heart of the family.

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