A Memory of Super Bowl Sunday, 2003

I think it was your eyes.

(Blue-green, joyful, scheming.)

All I know for sure
is I was trapped –
stuck in the wake
of your tropical storm.
Your square teeth,
firm jaw,
dirty blonde hair…

(I wanted it all.)

I tried to be the girl
I thought you would like.
So I learned the difference
between a first down
and a field goal

(It wasn’t enough.)

I thought for a moment
as we played catch in the snow
the navy jersey, number twelve
meant I could hope.

(It wasn’t true.)

To me,
it was whistles and sweat,
white lines on green grass,
and a roaring crowd.

I never loved the game.

I wanted to.

Truth of the matter was:
I loved you.


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