Malts & Art (2002)
Sitting at the table with my cool and smooth malt in hand, I savored the rich blueberry flavor through the straw that just never seemed big enough. This place became a refuge when the sun was about to melt the asphalt of the street. The exposed brick wall provided just the kind of welcome cool that everyone here looked like they needed, and I leaned my back against it. Cool malts, cool walls, but always a warm atmosphere. Acrylic birch trees were hanging in their frames above my head. I wondered if the frames are birch wood. But I was not there for birch tees on canvas. I was there to suck the life out of that malt in my invigorating ritual. Like some primitive warrior eating the heart of his defeated, I too enjoyed the victory over the tall glass of richly flavored dairy. Right then it was one of those moments when you had cooled enough and were ready to once more partake in the sun bath of the city street. But you still wouldn’t have wanted to walk barefoot on the pavement.
I knew I had to see the new exhibit at the museum before I even sat down with the frothy feast in my glass, but now I wanted to see it even more. The rising buildings and the people passed me by as the cars stood still in their own fumes. I strolled contently towards the newest and most interesting architecture of downtown, and the museum beckoned me to enter.
