The Beautiful Game

It’s better than Christmas.

Every four years,

responsibilities must be abandoned

mid-June to mid-July.

I become an expert at

time changes and

group standings and

possibility vs. probability.

 

There’s a charged hum

sparking through the air

and the days shift:

sunrise is the first game,

sunset the last.

 

I devour the scenes,

on the prowl for the play

of the tournament,

falling in love with new players and teams

intoxicated by the Beautiful Game.

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