Monday, November 12, 2007


Friday nights in winter after the halftime show
we shivered on metal bleachers, the cold seeping into our legs,
wind numbing the gloveless fingers positioned on metal keys.
After the 50th first down, the scoreboard blazed the halting numbers 4, 3, 2, 1.
Then we piled onto the warm and waiting bus, peeling our soldier suits
off damp t-shirts and shorts or jeans

While football players and cheerleaders rode home from the big game
in separate buses
We huddled close, holding hands and sharing kisses
our instruments in our laps

Kids in school called the boys band fairies, but they weren’t all.

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