Super Bowl Exuberance
You can just tell —
There's something in the mild evening air,
Something beyond the stillness,
The streets carrying far less humanity than usual
(Indeed, they're as empty as a ghost town's).
The entire city is at home,
Mesmerized by the glow of titanic phantoms.
I suppose, in financial dire straits like these,
People need relief, release,
An ability to escape, for a few hours, an entire Sunday,
Celebrate somebody else's victory,
Commiserate with somebody else's defeat,
That they might forget the demoralizing urgency
Of their own merciless circumstances.
02/02/09 - (1)
|