I revel in your inky blackness.
You are full of interesting flavors.
Alas, you are only a stout.
Your consistency is no thicker than that of a cola.
For that matter, your head is no better than a cola.
Even if I pour you hard and fast into a pintglass.
You are from Missoula, Montana.
You have a cute picture on your label.
Of a bewildered cow with antlers
Strapped forlornly to its head
Like Max in the Grinch.
You are an American stout.
An oatmeal stout.
And as much as I want you to be Guinness,
You just aren't.