Old Money, New Whiskey

I bring my whiskey to check out.
The liquor store clerk is upset.
He says, You bought that last time
There's a world of amazing whiskey out there
You should never buy the same brand twice
Until you've tried them all.
But I like this one.
He takes the bottle from me.
He says, That's no excuse
You can't have it
Choose another.
He motions at a top shelf
Where a dozen strange whiskey brands
Stand tall
Certainly expensive.
He looks at me in a superior way.
He says, They're only a few dollars more
That's nothing for a true whiskey connoisseur
Like yourself.
I feel harshly judged.
He takes a fancy bottle down and says
You need to buy this one
I'm telling you
If you go through life not sampling them all
Then how do you know what you're missing
Because the one you don't try might turn out to be
Your favorite.
But the one I want is already my favorite
That's why I came in here.
He looks at me hard and says
How do you know
How do you know anything?
I feel naked.
He says, Buy this one
I'm telling you.
Beaten and bullied,
I lay down old money for new whiskey
Take the nectar home and find it
Sweet and smoky heaven.

© Poem Fix 2012

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