Donal Mahoney

There's a football field between us.
I'm in one of the end zones bellowing
and you're in the other one bawling,
the cliffs of your cheekbones
streaked with mascara.

Betty Friedan is screaming.
She says the problem is my fault.
Bella Abzug is cackling
that she agrees.
Gloria Steinem
is at the microphone,
ready to sentence me
to decades of marriage
with children by the score
though she didn't marry till 60.

These ladies must be right.
I'm just a man so I give up.
I accept all the blame.
Mountains have risen
in the middle of the field.
I can no longer see you.
And if I can't see you
there's no reason for us
to get together again.
I have to be able to see you.
It's always been your hind
and never your mind
that I favored.

We were having a wonderful time
and all of a sudden you got serious
like all the others.
They wanted to get married, too.
Listen up.
I'm going to announce
the best solution.
I want to be generous.
I hope you can hear me:
'You keep the ring.
I'll punt and go home.'