May 9th, 2010.

It's the day of your maman.
Beer served up in a sleek green vase of a bottle
and conversation of Pabst to chill out the afternoon.
Wind whisks through, it's early, no rush.

"Gross, that would be chicken milk."

"I'm sure they'll find a way to make that. Disgusting."

The boy loads up his super hero drink with sparkle umbrellas and I steal his stick, shooting at the air.

Talk of tequila and agave,
past Patron fields to get to tourismo ziplines,
and of friendly people from Saskatchewan.