river rat: So blue
It should mean more,
when Tyler scores big,
a blister or boil should
burst, ooze pale azure down my leg or arm.
Guilty indifference—fanatic apathy—
my outsider allegiance, confounded,
bounding two and three points
at a time, meting time in halves.
So many healthy, happy people deal with near exsanguination
each time opening bars of the fight song play on channel three
while I surf for re-runs of the Antiques Roadshow
or roll Serenity’s last fight scene again and again and again.
I need more from them, my team, my adopted life.
I need a championship every year and no losses along the way.
Nothing short of victory will grow my penis as big as it can be.
So blue.
