Charles Lara

Playbook - Poem by Charles Lara

We sat around
and drank beer
watched a football game
on a bright warm
Sunday afternoon.
We shuffled poker cards
and played without betting
so after a few hands I folded
and opened another beer.
I sat back and watched
the game on a
wide screen HD TV.
Middle age men cheering
a team that was doomed
from the start of the game.
We ate sandwiches and
complained about the price of gas
and property taxes
and all the other scabs
that come from
domesticated dementia
the conversations were weak
at best so we broke out
a bottle of tequila
and took a few shots
during halftime.
Nobody smokes anymore
so I walked outside
smoked a cigarette
nobody smokes anymore
as I came back in
a few of the men were
comparing matrimony
to football and how one
needs to call the right plays
to get ahead and finally score
to win a couple of times
in this very long season
of self inflicted love
I opened a cold one
and listened
as the tequila
took hold of some
loudly cheering
because our team
had scored and
we still were
two touchdowns behind
with under two minutes
left in the game
we toasted once more
before the clock ran out
and our team lost another one
we readjusted as we mentioned
our chores that awaited us at home.
Nobody took another shot,
our wives would be waiting
for each of us to get home.
as we headed towards our cars
we waved farewell to each other
we must do this again soon
we knew at this stage in our lives
our playbook was thin...

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Poem Submitted: Friday, February 13, 2009

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