Oh bowling alley, how you are majestically rising to the sky,
and I sometimes wonder why.
Where there were once fields of wheat,
there shall be funky-smelling feet.
I can see my future in bamboo lanes,
a turkey I shall try to tame.
As a younger lad, Grand Central was where good times were had,
where pitchers of ale flowed, no time to be sad.
Later in this life,
with the sound of mediocre scores Sunset Lanes were rife.
Na’er did I give the noble game a second thought,
a bowling ball I never thought would be bought.
But, here you are, with the moniker of Al,
And I’m quite excited to become your pal.
A league I may try,
with friends close and those gone by.
My days may be spent trying to break two hundred,
but I can’t really thing of anything that rhymes well with this so I will just leave it at that.
Suffice to say I am excited,
to try my hand at bowling unrequited.
And the truth is that the poem is somewhat lame,
but I am looking forward to making your acquaintance just the same.
Big Al’s is opening a new location near us at Progress Ridge on Barrows Road in August. Never thought I’d get so excited about a bowling alley — but it looks really cool and I have it on good authority that Big Al’s is really fun.
The best news, though?
Next year, we’ll be getting a New Seasons and Cinetopia across the street from the bowling alley.
Living out near the country ain’t so bad after all.
And yes, I am aware that this poem is really silly.
{ 2 comments }
Girl, act yo bad self and gimme some Bombay potatoes.
Dear Zanger, thanks for your ode. I work with Progress Ridge and love your endorsement. I can’t wait for you to see Big Al’s. Would like to correspond directly with you. LMK.
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