An Ode To Sports Bars

When the Gods want a burger, they go to sports bars.
They sit at the bar
Thunderbolts go under their stools,
And they drink pints served by some blonde kid with a one-syllable name.

When the Gods want a beer, they go to sports bars.
They seat themselves squarely
The meat is cheapish
The beer is cold
And the company is pleasant.

Because the Gods know the sports bar.
The Gods know.
And you know.
And I know.
That it’s pleasant there.
It’s atmospheric there.

It’s relaxed in the sports bar, and conversation is a breeze.
You can bullshit the guy
Next to you at the bar.
And he won’t mind,
He’s passed out on his plate.
Feel free to eat his fries.

It’s nice in the sports bar; go for whatever team you want.
That’s what I do
No one notices,
Because that’s the joy of sports bars.
Because everyone’s there for that reason too.
Because they want a burger,
And they want the tube,
And they want a beer,
And they want to see you.

When the Gods want to relax, they go to sports bars.
They sit at the bar.
They relax and hang out.
And sometimes the music’s awful
But the bartender may turn it down
If you ask him real nice.

80’s girl bands? Really?

– Jake

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