Here is one by Sarah Browning, written years before the fall of Tiger Woods, the Great Recession, and the alleged end of the Iraq War.

Falling for Tiger Woods in a St. Louis Airport Bar

Down we went, into flat America
like the golf ball on TV. Not much
hope, coming in, but now I've met
the wet promise of gin in an airport bar.
The white men around me
are talking Cardinals, golf, ketchup
that's clopping the bottle top.
Two guys down from me, Troy is talking
hip replacement, Walter Reed, Iraq,
15 years of service, heading to D.C.
for the hip, the Nationals, maybe
Amtrak to Fenway Park.

Tiger Woods loves me, I decide,
the gin settling in for the second flight.
Still, Tiger misses the shot, Troy leans
on his crutches, calls our flight time
to Tiger, calls to him to satisfy us,
our airport needs, all the America
we'll be leaving behind – the gin,
the white men, my love, Iraq,
Troy's hip, the ball that sits hovering
on the green and will not fall.

– Sarah Browning