Heaven Is A Dive Bar In Tucson by Judge Santiago Burdon

Heaven is a dive bar in Tucson.

It's just past the Old Pac'em Inn Steakhouse on Drachman. A place where nobody knows your name. There's the  Neon scent of  spent memories 

An ancient jukebox from the fifties, scratches out top 40 songs from the 70's  on warped 45's,  there's no labels to know which song you select.

Bar stools of exhausted foam padding with the ass impression of the last person that sat there. There's the one beer sign, with a flickering neon light, resonating a low humming sound refusing to die. It advertises a beer the bar doesn't serve with an  outdated slogan: 'If you've got the time... We've got the beer'

The red vinyl booths are arranged in a horseshoe shape around rustic tables. Their legs have matchbooks and bar coasters jammed under them trying to level them out.

A single bulb dangles from an electric cord with a plastic cover made to look like stained glass above a pool table that once had a green felt top. It's now stained from spilled beer and cocktails, with burns from cigarettes left too long in between shots. The  pool cues are made from crooked trees without tips so there's no need to chalk up.  The bathrooms don't have doors, there's no mirrors, they were broken years ago.  Paper towels and toilet paper have never been available. One of the two urinals is covered with plastic, with an"Out of Order" sign, but it gets pissed in any way. I can't remember there ever being a toilet seat, but there's a condom machine, that on occasion dispenses a condom. The entire floor is made up of twelve by twelve inch mismatched and different colored tiles, where drunks and defeated fighters have fallen, as well as the occasional glass. It hasn't been mopped since the Kennedy Administration and sometimes your feet stick. The only item on the menu are little Tombstone pizzas and packaged peanuts. The bartender always says they're out of pizza.  There's only one beer on tap, it's the  same brand that has been served for years. The walls are adorned  with photos of everyone whose shadow has graced the doorway, mine is there somewhere, I've never checked to see, I was probably drunk at the time.

God lives on the premises in a room near the front door. You're greeted with a smile, it's actually his blessing and he's always willing to give you a tour. I'd invite you to come on by for a beer or two. Maybe get branded with a likeness of God, you're then eligible to discounted drinks for life. Unfortunately Heaven is closed, I'm sorry to say. It had a good run. Maybe you know of a dive bar in another city? If so, tell me about it.

On an cool July morning in Chicago, Judge Santiago Burdon like Dickens' David Copperfield was born on a Friday. He attended Universities in the United States, London and Paris focusing his studies on Victorian novels and authors. His short stories and poems have been featured in Magazines, On-line Literary Journals, Podcasts and a collection of Anthologies. Santiago's first book "Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild a Collection of Cautionary Tales" was published by HST Press January 2020. He is presently engaged in finishing his novel "Imitation of Myself ". It tells of his experiences as a drug runner for a Mexican Cartel. Judge Santiago Burdon turned 67 last July and lives modestly in Costa Rica