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.