Game Day

I am here not
because I want to be.

I am here because
I look perfect
for the part
I really don’t
want to play in life.

And so my acquiescence
to uninformed expectations
places me now
on this 30-yard line
awaiting another kickoff,
facing yet another crisis,
when I will sprint downfield
in a display of regulated ferocity
while secretly hoping to avoid,
first, the steamrolling blockers,
then, the pounding ball carrier,
while appearing totally prepared,
confident,
forthright,
but wanting only
to survive,
to gain the sideline safely,
to avoid the coaches
and, more importantly,
the cheerleaders,
all suffering their own
inherent forms
of delusion.

Don Cadwallader

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