Monday, February 06, 2017

Poem for Monday and Super Bowl Sunday

Wide Receiver
By Mark Halliday

In the huddle you said "Go long—get open"
and at the snap I took off along the right sideline
and then cut across left in a long arc
and I'm sure I was open at several points --
glancing back I saw you pump-fake more than once
but you must not have been satisfied with what you saw downfield
and then I got bumped off course and my hands touched the turf
but I regained my balance and dashed back to the right
I think or maybe first left and then right
and I definitely got open but the throw never came --

maybe you thought I couldn’t hang on to a ball flung so far
or maybe you actually can’t throw so far
but in any case I feel quite open now,
the defenders don’t seem too interested in me
I sense only open air all around me
though the air is getting darker and it would appear
by now we’re well into the fourth quarter
and I strongly doubt we can afford to settle for
dinky little first downs if the score is what I think it is

so come on, star boy, fling a Hail Mary
with a dream-coached combination of muscle and faith
and I will gauge the arc and I will not be stupidly frantic
and I will time my jump and -- I'm just going to say
in the cool gloaming of this weirdly long game
it is not impossible that I will make the catch.


We're home after driving Adam to College Park and saying goodbye to Christine at home following the most ridiculous Super Bowl ending in history -- I was rooting for Atlanta, but even if I'd been a Brady apologist, excuse me, fan, I'd be pissed as hell that a coin toss predetermined the outcome. Overtime rules are some epic B.S. Before that obnoxious ending, it was, at least, reasonably interesting to watch, since it was a more defensive game than I expected and Atlanta had some great plays.

Earlier it was a pretty good day; we picked Adam up in College Park and saw Nocturnal Animals with him (yet another acclaimed movie I did not feel was All That, and to give La La Land and Manchester by the Sea a break, at least they aren't obsessed with misogynistic masculinity despite ostensibly following a woman's experiences). The Super Bowl party my friends throw, where my parents and Maddy joined us, is always a joy, so here are the annual shoe, pet, and high school reunion photos!

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