Lily flutters her long pitch-black curly eyelashes.

In the middle of the night, clusters of rainbows bloom

From her ivy-like hair, from her cheeks and from her neck.

Wearing a thin curved hem top and tight mini-jeans,

Lily serves beer…

Lily bends her body more than necessary

And gets close to her customers a bit much.

Lily mixes herself in good proportions

And cultures her own yeast with her own formula.

The pose of a shecat in pencil heels is an appetizer Lily cooks.

The fancy necklace on her milky breasts is a dish of fritters Lily prepares.

Lily’s black irises make her look like a virgin crow searching for prey.

Lily moves like a piece of meat about to be snatched by a hawk.

Lily serves beer…
Lily promotes her beer with her scent.

Lily promotes her scent with her beer.

Lily serves beer…
When Lily uncorks her sweet and gluey laughter,

The faces in the crowd that buzzes like blowflies taking off

Will turn and stare with their fiery eyes.

Lily pours her frothy giggles to be forked at and swallowed.
With her lips in disguise of red berries, Lily serves…

With her seductive smile piercing their stares, Lily serves…
Cutting up their words with her little chats, Lily serves…

Flowing down their throats and then into their arteries, Lily serves…
Lily serves like a shaggy female terrier, cutely petulant.

Lily breaks herself until she fits into a bottle and she serves…
Pretending to be uninterested in the news of homecomings,

Lily grafts herself tree to tree and she serves another beer…

Lily puts herself on a fishhook and angles like there’s no tomorrow.

Lily quips, “Life is a little bitter just like this beer” and serves another…
“I am God’s typing error.” She serves another beer…

“I am a little she-snake from the snake charmer’s basket.”

Lily serves another…
It isn’t bedtime yet…another

Nights are still falling in rain…another

Dawn hasn’t budded…

No crack of light in tomorrows yet…

There’s only darkness…
Lily serves beer.

Lily has served beer.

Lily is serving beer.