I Hit the Bar Last Night

I wasn't quite in hell
and some things were going well,
but I didn't feel right
so I hit the bar last night

I saw my favorite bartendress
and said hello to her,
then ordered the beer special
a four-dollar pitcher

All around the bar
people were talking,
but mostly some NBA game
they were glazedly watching

A flashing neon sign spoke
of a lottery fortune,
robbing the near broke
with a marketing gun
(nearby the highly marketed lottery machines
with flashy spinning icons
were busy:
playing working people like pawns)

A white fellow dressed exactly
like a rap-studio gangster,
gave a smile relaxed and friendly
and tried to strike a conversation:
but I simply couldn't see
past his fashion idiocy

So I took my pitcher
to another room but the speakers there
echoed "boom boom boom"
some noisy boring rockers
shouting about money, violence, and doom;
I tried to drink the beer I'd bought
but the volume was so loud
and so was the crowd,
and it was song after song
of talentless rot

I found a quieter table
and looked around:
nothing that great my eyes found
and from the "music"
my head still did pound

But I'd bought the pitcher
so I drank it down
but left a whole pint of beer,
something I rarely do;
I haven't the money to waste
believe me, that's true

This wasn't the relaxing cure
that I'd eagerly sought,
but I did feel a bit better
or so I thought;
nervously eyeing traffic
I found my apartment
turned on my cable TV,
and took in 2 hours of idiocy

If you have to ask
it was all slightly sad,
but I did somewhat relax
and it wasn't that bad