I got your back
packin’ pimentos
a friendly olive soused
bombay on the halfshell
first down
you are prized and recognized
my moon
my sun
my cherished one
the cheerleader of my end-zone
you are the root
of all my scales and chakras
every chord resolves to you
i’m simply human
after all
I only let the little ponies inside
they ride me for amusement
I sleep on my tummy, not on my side
so the dreams don’t escape
or collide with the morning
pom pom dreams
the swish of crepe-paper
in the crisp, young breeze
the first quarter of Autumn
before there is blood on the field
and the umpire’s whistle is dry
rah-rah home team
she pointed with a finger
on an arm also gone
to her leg no longer there
then she winked her glass eye
she had been slowly disappearing
since she was seventeen
life and circumstance took a finger here
and a tooth there and organs failed
remember the pom-pom days
when we were alive and full of football?
she had a quarterback once
second string, but a quarterback nonetheless
he talked of coaching one day
when he was too pudgy to play
dreams lose their color that way
like the pom pom days
before the good life
was more than we could bear
