Local

An English pub’s a perfect place
To sip an IPA.
Its cozy vibes can warm you
On a windy wintry day.

I do not live in England
But Manhattan’s where you’ll find
Whatever type of restaurant
Or bar you have in mind.

And that is why I found myself
Indulging in a draft
Inside a quite convincing pub,
With English servers staffed.

My spouse and I both ordered pints
With sausages and fries.
(In London, they’d be “bangers”
Served with “chips,” I would surmise).

But still, it came just close enough
That, with each frothy sip,
We could pretend we’d crossed the pond
To Britain, on a trip.

Yet when we paid the bill, of course,
There were no pounds or pence.
A fantasy just goes so far
And then it makes no sense.

Reality has upsides, though,
And here’s where this one led –
A few blocks walk on New York streets
And straight to my own bed!