SUPER BOWL SUNDAY SUNSET

I studied poems all day
On Super Bowl Sunday.
My revenge on American crass,
My hatred of the Pittsburgh Steelers,
Is found in a poem.

And now it’s getting dark.
I almost made it through another season
Without getting my head taken off
By a poem.  I could hit
You at a hundred miles an hour
And it wouldn’t harm you,
Read as you are in things
That make no difference (oh but they do).

But life keeps getting lived
Outside the poem.
The sun’s going down—depressing!
The murmuring TV sets are on.
Remember when games were played during the day?
Perhaps I’ll watch the second half
Before I go to bed
Just to re-connect with humanity
And to see who wins.

My those poems seem so
Indifferent in my mind now.
Perhaps you might talk to me
About whatever happens to come to mind?

4 Comments

  1. noochinator said,

    September 18, 2015 at 10:22 pm

    The photo is more depressing than the poem….

  2. thomasbrady said,

    September 19, 2015 at 12:34 pm

    A young guy I currently work with tells the story of how he and some friends ran into the Steeler quarterback in a bar in Las Vegas, had their picture taken with him and the next day the rape charges came out. And then he was telling me how he noticed in the Eagles/Pats SB the Pats appeared to know every play the Eagles ran in the first half. The next day the recent “Spygate Was Tip of Iceberg, Pats Steal Other Teams’ Playbook” story came out.

    As for the poem. It sucks. I never should have published it.

    • noochinator said,

      September 19, 2015 at 3:44 pm

      I like:

      I almost made it through another season
      Without getting my head taken off
      By a poem. I could hit
      You at a hundred miles an hour
      And it wouldn’t harm you,

      • thomasbrady said,

        September 19, 2015 at 4:11 pm

        Yea, that is the best part. That’s not bad.


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