Villagers follow viceroys to the pits
counting on magistrates to pull their triggers.
Did you compete in The Empire State
Games? Championship windbreakers
awarded in sailing or snooker. Recliners
stitched in rows of sewing machines.
Messy start to the century. I preferred
being a doctor to an assassin when
we played Medicine Wars. Saving friends
suited me better than drilling enemies
in the head with burgundy blow-up balls.
Awfully messianic of me sure, but snowballs
were a different story. I had to nail a few
of them on the way back to the infirmary
where I’d give my boys a second chance
so they’d select me for their foxholes.
I got your back’s some single sex crap.
You’re on my back’s some double sex shit.
Noble Royal Confrontation, Romans and
Barbarians. There’s a piece of crater
in a stained glass window but Abiquiu,
New Mexico’s more like being on the moon
than that sanctuary’s tribute to Apollo.
The third astronaut only got to orbit;
the other two spotlights touched down.
I gave up team sports for 26.2, later had to
give up the classic distance too. Damn
degenerative cartilage. American Indians
got the flu in The Gulf so Sam turned
weary volunteers purple by sending them
to serve out their tours in Düsseldorf.
Southwestern veterans raced back home
on-the-incurable-range to feed their patient
horses apples. Stick a pebble in your lip
if you’re thirsty. Endure, since water’s scarce
up here. At least there’re golf courses for pre-
mature retirement. Earl Campbell reminded us
good ole boys come in all persuasions.
Karl Malone’s a-truckin’, Billy Sims chews
tall grass in bib-overalls. All ya gotta do’s
put a little pinch between your cheek & gum.
Spit Skoal Bandits on the beach in tight shorts.
36” thighs: the size of my waist these days
because I’ve been knocking a few too many
back lately. Tear-away jerseys busted up
The Steel Curtain at The Astrodome.
Mean Joe Greene said The Tyler Rose was
the toughest to tackle. Hey kid, Have a Coke
Ad as a child and a habit as a pre-teen.
The rush for fame should make your parents
smile. Tell them to live vicariously through
someone else’s locker room tunnel. A one-man
demolition team’s a whole lot to handle. Poor Earl’s
now afflicted with spinal stenosis. What happened
to that Bum’s Oilers? Is your boss radical enough
to doff his cowboy hat and confess he smoked
peyote with Taos tribes? They called him Big
White, Small Bow hunting elk off the reservation.