Fran’s Eastside Tavern

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Just off Porter Road you park along the tracks
Between the Beemers and trucks with rebel flags
What you think you know leave it at the door
Don’t talk about the White House or the war

No one’s askin’ and probably never will
Who you’re lovin’ or how you pay the bills
They’ll look you in the eye like you deserve
Shake your hand and take you at your word

Blue jeans and beer nuts ice cold PBRs
Cigarettes and cinder blocks tattoos and battle scars
Happy hour is every hour always time well spent
Fran’s Eastside Tavern changes strangers into friends

Trina’s laughin’ and Tommy breaks a grin
Can’t believe he sank that dang cue ball again
Behind the bar a TV’s tuned to Wrigley Field
Clock is runnin’ but in here we’re standing still

Underneath that beat up trucker hat
There’s a million dollar a smile
Brand new brother from a different mom and dad
Just like family for a little while

 - August 2019 -                                                                                                                   #291