Every team for a ring,
fish of different schools,
either end of the country.
My mother’s birthday, my wife’s;
Christmas Eve, New Year’s.
Tires, roses, computers, and peaches:
the things of our economy.
Get me a beer outta the fridge, mon frer.
I’ll slam it back through the line.
Is that chocolate not what you’d hoped?
An interception in the endzone, late.
***
Fresno St./Tulsa? Nevada/UCF?
Forget the BCS.
It’s the senior quarterback’s
last game ever, he’ll
go into the endzone head first.
What the heck, right?
When he’s drinking dos equis
in some spa in Mexico
that shoulder’ll feel real good.
The Writing of John B. Randall 