tonight I have you
in The Garden
loving round ball like me
so close we can smell the sweat
you share your box with me because
I never ask you how you got it
we sing, “Rondo!”
no matter which Celtic scores
and we lead the league in technicals
baby, chests thumping, panting,
needing to be restrained, you know
we don’t leave before the final buzzer
and our police escort -
the whole fucking city of Boston
our locker room
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment