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WIDE-RECEIVER

at least we have our rugby victory
that some still
refuse
to celebrate

which I feel
distant enough
to comment on
sitting here in
this fast-food joint
figuring what
stands before me
all of 900kg of
cholesterol

suicide by
sauce and grease
quick or
slow

death
on a plate

which was not
always so
in my youth
greyhound fast with
safe pair of hands
could have
won the
wing
wide-received the world
like
Odell Beckham
like a
Jerry Rice

touchdown morning
noon and night
(yes, dear Yoda
there is
try
after try)

but never
got a shake, somehow
never worked out
(I never
worked out)

speed
disappeared, and
ran the
wrong channels:
all blind-alley and
rut
after rut

so now all I have
is little nous, scrap
of verbal flair
every metaphor

needing to
be scrummed for

but this glory moment, huge
pay day
let me full-throated celebrate
since
it’s on my plate

distract me, detract me
from this
avant garde air
deconstructive (near) despair

this tepid pseudo Anglo version
of
German culture critic
French
maestro of the
(media) sign

get those into Hegelian
synthesis: sure
to get something
intellectually sublime

say this
having devoured everything
on my plate of death
just
bones to pick
all
that’s left

no route to run
now all
is done

no world of Hail Mary
and high five
(extra point
being gold
being good)

six-pick the
shit out of this poem if
you wish

last time
I checked
you still have freedom of choice

at least we have our victory
so let’s drink ourselves happy
even happier
and off to bed

too bad those
who refuse
(flatly or
with some political panache)
to join the tribe
and celebrate