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At the Game
Forty-something to three
Cheering crowd all around
The hometeam's scored again
BOOM
Cannon's echo rocks the stadium.
Faces glance in surprise at the sudden sound
Then ignored, the cheers continue.
Time slows in surreal silence
The smoke rises and stretches
Becomes a pale, grey demon
grasping the air, reaching out...
In the glow of the night-lights
a cool breeze finds it and bites--
The demon's scream is heard by none--
Above the cheers its fleeting body is torn apart.
Its passing leaves a shadow--
a thousand previous wars
Fought by boys for glory
Combatants colliding, rushing toward goals.
The image passes, nothing left in its wake
Save one final recognition:
Tonight's war is ceremonial.
Fought with rules, and honor, and referees.
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(C) 2003-2007 Walt Kneeland
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