The Beautiful Game

Waiting for a ride to the game.
The august heat has stolen the air so
I open a window and breathe in the afternoon.
Down in the street the Saturday traffic
Is backed up, waiting impatiently,
Snarling, ready to pounce.

From the nearest car I can hear
Lennon still imagining.
In the passenger seat I see,
First take. Long brown hair, long brown legs,
Second take. I realize it's you.

I hope my game is as
Enjoyable as yours.