In From the Cold

Two early games
Kids playing basketball
I’m Jason Bourne
Knit cap, coffee thermos, tight lipped
Anonymous
Able to observe
To listen
To think

“You suck, Ref.”
Relax, role model dad, these are fourth graders.

“It’s cold outside”
Thirteen degrees is cold, Madam Obvious”

“The high school sports program sucks”
I shouldn’t think what I’m thinking

I was left wondering what is good
About where I live
I mean, all people ever do is bitch
Laying blame with everyone else for their unhappiness
Recreation programs suck,
According to some
I think to people who are involved
Do a great job.
The weather is an easy target
But unless you’ve got supernatural influence
There isn’t much that can be done
So overly vocal, prone to hyperbole
Moms in the school lobby,

Chill out.

As for the high school sports,
Athletic prowess is relative
To a player’s competition,
There are too many land mines
With an equal number of parental blind spots
To rationally comment
On the state of affairs
Of the local scholastic athletes
There’s plenty of room for improvement
Institutionally, genetically, and commitment wise
What we have here is
An unfortunate confluence of limiting factors
Unable to reach the hopes and dreams
Of the masses

I got home from the games
Settled into winter wear and
Walked my totally at ease and dapperly clad pitbull
Through those arctic winds
Spoken of with such hot air earlier
His smile and his trot
Inspiring a short run
After, we both dove into the perfection that is peanut butter
Mine with jelly and bread
His straight out of the jar
Marc Cohn sang of inspiration found on a personal journey
That soothed my nerves after an “audibly tragic” trip in public

Now, though,
Free of the camouflage
Safe at home,
In from the cold

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