After the Game © 1988
by Joan Papalia-Eisert
flush-faced and large
you trudge even down the stairs
heaving smokey breaths
waddling and grunting
"i can't believe I came all the way down here
to see only tow white guys play"
your wife doesn't remember
the play of your pelvis
and your children see you
only from the neck down
you can't masturbate
you don't know what eat
only when
color is your fear
of what you know
you'll never become
