2006 World Cup

Before video streaming was a thing,

you were precariously perched

on a metal hammock hundreds

of feet in the air, your squeegee

squeaking down windows.


I “watched” the games on Yahoo,

reading the play-by-play between revising

articles about Iraq and Afghanistan.

Your radio blared the same plays

in quick melodic Spanish

that seeped through the glass panes.


There was beautiful moments

when everything aligned:

our hands raised in the air, everyone

shouting: Gooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaal!

You to the pedestrians, me to my officemates.


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