One of the only
Workingmans’ bars in town
Situated near the GM Plant;
They catered to the men
Who worked the line
Kept the food simple
The jukebox stacked
With blue collar rock
And soul. Saturdays
They hauled out a
Big screen T.V.
For the college football games.
My dad took my sister
And I there even though
We were too young,
Even though the bar
Had a no children policy.
He strung our restless bodies
Through the afternoon
With the promise of
Quarters doled out
For pinball and the skill crane
Where I tried, without luck,
To win my sister
A stuffed panda bear
She had her eye on.
“Just stay out
Of people’s way,”
Dad told us, but
We felt we belonged,
And the smiles
Of the beer drinkers
Confirmed this belief
And gave the bar
An air of grace
That cut through
The stink of smoke
And stale peanuts and spilled
Beer and the leftover
Grime of a hard day’s work
Almost too holy
To wash away.