That’s somewhere my parents never went
The attic-garage-operating room
It’s the place you go to develop your art, rearrange your engine, and survive
My parents didn’t know the sacred grit of a dive bar
My mom and dad never discovered “brown and pillows” as the fragrance of home
They didn’t experience the safety of ripped barstool upholstery and ashtrays
The map of life lead me to these cashed-in, burnt-out venues because it must have understood me
I want to connect with others who are clinging on
My parents have zero understanding of this lifestyle
They were Presbyterians
Context is everything
Listen
The dive bar is for finding the guy next to you
Giving him a cheers
Lighting his cigarette
Playing his song
And seeing him next Wednesday
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