Mislabeled

One draught is never enough
Missing the old land lady
Gay days, frayed memory
The hand cradles amber nectar
Even amid buffed wood and steel
Of monotonous chain pubs
One draught is never enough.

But enchanted ones, canalside
Or pitched surprise on hillside bends
Black windows, low slung
Magic ones make me long
For alcoholism
Hang-overs and misjudgement
One draught is never enough.

I have paintings from Italy
Paintings from towns I don't remember
Paintings of towns I never knew
Paintings that call thoughts
Of sun, hills, Roman blue
Thoughts so easy to love.

A picture of a harbour bay,
A distant town, vineyards, roads
Church so far away
No details the vague wash holds
I couldn't see that day
Whether there are singers
If the harbour's rife with thieves
A brush as free as hope
The view as beautiful as it is remote.

It is my own painting that I love.
As other artists do
One draught is never enough
I could murder a forest with you.