By popular request!
She can’t find him in the gloom of their darkened room,
But she follows the snapping undergrowth of
Pizza boxes and crumpled beer cans to his chair,
The sonorous chant of football fans
Like a throbbing descant of cicadas.
Good night, love?
His voice floats through the miasma.
The best, she begins, elated,
I’m slam champion of the world…
Oh, that’s good…
Not quite with her,
Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, YES!
What a goal!
What were you saying, love?